365 Days of the Dead

END NOTES

2008-11-16T18:04:00.005-05:00

First of all, I would like to thank a few people:

Michael Anthony, Dustin Stewart, and especially Donna Williams for providing copies of many of the films reviewed here.

Filmmakers Mike Lombardo of Reel Splatter Productions, John Demars, Marshaa Robinson, Srguijarro Srguijarro, Matthew Hatchard, and Marius Penczner for their feedback, support, and enthusiasm.

Dave Marks at Blog of the Living Dead, Trioxin, and the Zombie Notes Newsgroup for spreading the love. Not to mention a shout-out to Myrrym Davies for her continued support for the cause.

Of course all of you who took the time to read a review, post a comment, or tell a friend about the blog. 365 Days took up a good chunk of the past year--more than I'd anticipated--and it was quite a relief knowing that somebody was making it worth the effort.

But most importantly I'd like to thank my patient, understanding, and supporting wife Kathleen for encouraging me, enabling me, and not holding it against me when I spent more time with shitty DVDs than with her. I love you, sweetie!

QUICK NOTE: STAY TUNED

2008-11-09T15:08:00.003-05:00

Although the films have watched and all the reviews posted--sniff, sniff--stay tuned in the days to come, as I'll be posting some follow-up notes for the completion of 365 Days of the Dead.

Thanks to all who've been reading.

DAY 365--WHITE ZOMBIE

2008-11-09T14:07:00.002-05:00

And so we bring 365 Days of the Dead to a close with, ironically enough, the very first zombie film (or at least the first to use the word "zombie" in its title), the 1932 semi-classic WHITE ZOMBIE. Directed by Victor Halpern, this film offers little significance aside from being first, and stands today as a curio at best. Or maybe a treat for Bela Lugosi fans.

Rewatching the movie I surprised to discover how steadily WHITE ZOMBIE comes close to being great yet never does. I'm sure that can be ascribed to Halpern, who was making a Poverty Row quickie to capitalize on the box-office of FRANKENSTEIN and DRACULA; it takes only a casual glance to realize that the film's strongest visuals are aping James Whale and Tod Browning. (One exception, of course, is the establishing scene in the sugar mill as the zombies toil into the night, unmindful as one of their own falls into the machinery; had there been more eerie set-pieces like this, it might've claimed a spot in the same league as those other terror titans.)

Though the films' considerable atmosphere still holds up well, even in the poorly-restored public domain prints available today, the same cannot be said for its story, which falls squarely into rickety melodrama. It's up to Lugosi with his Mephistophelean countenance and cadre of living dead to carry the picture, and the former doesn't exactly pull his fair share (then again, he was making $800 for a starring role, do you blame him?). And Halpern's direction is enough to make one a zombie, with his somnambulant pacing and long gaps between lines; even at 66 minutes, this thing could've been compressed by a third and not lost a thing.

Still, as low-budget films from the '30s go, it's not that bad. Perhaps anathema to today's zombie fans weaned on Romero's gut-chomping ghouls, it's an essential entry to the living dead cannon, and those who haven't seen it yet should check it out.

DAY 364--NIGHT OF THE SORCERERS

2008-11-09T11:48:00.002-05:00

An adventure-horror hybrid from 1973, Amando de Ossorio's NIGHT OF THE SORCERERS boils down to a jungle-bound version of his famous BLIND DEAD series, replacing the monk-robed Knights Templar with bikini-clad panther women. It's an intriguing idea, though the execution leaves a little to be desired.

An African expedition studying the disappearance of local elephants (headed by Eurofave Jack Taylor) discovers a voodoo cult that raises zombies and has a habit of turning white ladies into the aforementioned panther women (not sure how chopping off their heads causes the transformation--and although they're ostensibly shape-shifters, they tend to appear mostly in fur bikinis, not that I'm complaining). Did I mention the panther women were also vampires? And that they never bite anyone on the neck, but like to stab and drown people?

Okay, so logic never was de Ossorio's strong suit, but when it comes to lurid thrills he usually delivers (as he does in the film's prologue, a racially insensitive bit in which the dark-skinned tribe ravages and sacrifices a Caucasian woman). There's some goofy violence to be found, not to mention a plethora of bare female flesh, but SORCERERS never really hits its mark, as though de Ossorio was uncomfortable with the material.

The director employs the same slow pace that he used in the BLIND DEAD films, though without the Gothic trappings and eerie chanting soundtrack the tempo feels dull instead of atmospheric. De Ossorio also uses the slow-motion techniques for the predatory panther women that he worked to great effect with the Templars, but whereas the latter benefited from that trick, it just looks silly in SORCERERS (looking at times like a bad BAYWATCH parody). Even the rising of the dead--always a highlight in the BLIND DEAD series--looks cheap and cobbled together, without the accoutrements that made the earlier sequences so effective.

And without that same element of fun and ambience, NIGHT OF THE SORCERERS fails to justify its existence, especially when the threadbare plot has so little going for it. Fans of Eurotrash will undoubtedly enjoy it--and make no mistake, it's not a total waste--but if you could never get into TOMBS OF THE BLIND DEAD or GHOST GALLEON, you are not going to like this.

DAY 363--DANCE OF THE DEAD

2008-11-09T11:19:00.003-05:00

Gregg Bishop's 2008 high school zombie movie DANCE OF THE DEAD (part of the Ghost House collective) was supposedly written ten years prior, before the recent undead boom. Maybe that's why it feels so tired and familiar, because I know I've seen this plot before.

In a concept we've seen in NIGHT OF THE LIVING DORKS and BOY EATS GIRL (with the same results), the living dead have risen to feed upon high school students at the prom. And wouldn't you know, the only ones who can save the day are the unpopular geeks that couldn't get a date--had this happened to me when I was in school, I'd have let the zombies eat the motherfuckers, but I'm an anti-social sort. And while I liked the semi-twist of having the phys ed instructor helping the boys, the plot still reeks of desperate wish-fulfillment.

Bishop's directorial style is superficial gloss and flash, but it's never strong or distinctive enough to distract from the well-worn storyline--though there might be enough gore to keep people interested. Instead of trying too hard to be funny, Bishop should've focused on a sense of anarchy, a balls-to-the-wall mentality that would've complemented this picture so much better.

Occupying that gray area between not-bad and not-good, DANCE OF THE DEAD is the type of high-school tripe where you know upfront exactly who'll live and who'll die. Maybe if I'd encountered this earlier in the project I might've been a little more charitable, but by this point I'm simply tired of seeing this plot.

HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3 was scarier.

DAY 362--ALL SOULS DAY

2008-11-09T10:44:00.003-05:00

Like many of you who read this blog, I'm a sucker for a bad movies (otherwise I'd have sucked the business end of a shotgun sometime around February), but I appreciate it when a movie lets me know up front that it's going to be a stinker; say what you will about MANOS: THE HANDS OF FATE, but you know from frame one what you're in for. But when a movie appears at first glance to be decent and then turns sour--like Jeremy Kasten's 2005 thriller ALL SOULS DAY--I feel like the victim of a cinematic game of three-card monty.

It starts out like a better-than-average horror film with a '50s-set flashback as a vacationing family--led by Jeffrey Combs, clearly having a ball playing against type--encounters supernatural goings-on in a mysterious Mexican hotel. But just as it really starts to grow on you, Kasten flash-forwards to the present for the story proper, which isn't nearly as atmospheric, intriguing, or interesting as what came before it. (There's also a matter of a double prologue, as the film sets up its central backstory fifty or so years before Combs and family show up, causing the viewer to reinvest interest each time.)

The meat of the story, in which the dead return during the annual Day of the Dead celebration to exact their revenge (and prey on any handy tourists), might not've been too bad, even with the Romero-esque approach. But the protagonists are so bland and unappealing, including a male lead as hyperactive and annoying as a sugar-addled child, and flat, no-frills direction dampen any fun that may be had. Characters act with a vague humor that may be intentional (I wouldn't be surprised if many of the actors knew they were in a dud and decided to have some fun with it), and there's plenty of dead air throughout the plot as the cast muddles from one familiar situation to another. It's almost as if the Combs prologue was from a different film altogether, as none of the mood or ambience finds its way into the rest of the picture.

If ALL SOULS DAY had stuck with that opening sequence it could've been a so-so but enjoyable film, but instead it shovels out more of the same, giving us a mediocre would-be thriller involving whitebread schmucks in peril. Just what I needed.

DAY 361--DEAD LIFE

2008-11-06T16:10:00.002-05:00

The gods be praised, this is the last micro-budget shot-on-video hack-job I'll have to review for this project. Hopefully, it'll be the last one I'll ever see, but that's probably too much to ask. Regardless, this 2005 feature from director William Victor Schotten--who also delivered the slightly better SABBATH--is the same uninspired, unoriginal schlock we've seen time and again, complete with muffled audio and murky, snuff-flick quality videography.

Like a lot of these movies, DEAD LIFE chronicles the boring small-town life of a group of slackers (a thuddingly appropriate illustration of "Write what you know") whose world gets shaken up when yet another virus-borne zombie rampage hits their community. And while others have taken this same tired premise and juiced it up, DEAD LIFE opts to intercut long, aimless scenes of wandering zombies with one pointless conversation after another.

Sloppily edited with clumsy direction (even a scene involving a bitten-off dick registers no impact) and a meaningless, redundant death metal soundtrack, DEAD LIFE is a home movie masquerading as a feature. There's some decent gore to be found, as well as some black-and-white nightmare footage that's a desperate stylistic ploy, but it's just as poorly handled as the rest, and you have to wade through the snail-paced "story" to get to it.

Lacking energy, skill, or rhythm, DEAD LIFE is not worth the trouble. At least Schotten showed a little improvement with his follow-up; perhaps by movie #5 he can show some real strength.

DAY 360--WASTED WEST

2008-11-06T16:02:00.002-05:00

A much better take on the Western zombie concept is Andre Albrecht's 2006 short film WASTED WEST. A tribute to George Romero and Sergios Leone and Corbucci, this should appeal to both fans of the living dead and spaghetti westerns.

While it's a little on the slow side, without a solid narrative, Albrecht still delivers a fun ride thanks to his strong filmmaking chops. With a more developed screenplay, I'd really like to see this as a feature; hopefully Albrecht can use this to drum up enough capital to make that a reality.

Though hopefully he leaves out the cheesy CGI dog.

DAY 359--WESTERN ZOMBIE

2008-11-06T15:50:00.002-05:00

This 2006 short film's subtitle--"A Zombie Western"--tips you off to the filmmakers' idea of humor, but it's so misleading it might as well be called "A Zombie Cooking Show." If you're looking for cowpokes and their six-shooters squaring off against the living dead, look elsewhere; what you get here is just another amateurish zombie-attack scenario (as pointless and arbitrary as any other reviewed here, although this one's supposedly not made by bored high school students) with Ennio Morricone's THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY score slapped over it.

If you'd like to see a much better zombie Western (and I'd have reviewed it myself, had time permitted), check out IT CAME FROM THE WEST, a short Western-zombie film from Denmark. Starring puppets.

DAY 358--DEAD AND DEADER

2008-11-05T17:13:00.002-05:00

With a title like that you were maybe expecting A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE?

This 2006 standard-issue B-picture has a doozy of a concept: while on a mission in Cambodia, a US soldier (played by Dean Cain, wholly inappropriate for this kind of tough-guy role) is bitten by a radioactive scorpion; but instead of becoming a scorpion-like superhero--and believe me, that would've been an improvement--he dies, only to come back to life as a "half zombie." (Excuse me, but isn't that sort of like being half pregnant?) While the other officers in his platoon have reawakened as full-blown zombies--the vicious, flesh-eating kind, rather than Cain's type with the aw-shucks grin and puppy-dog eyes), Cain finds himself at war with his former brothers-in-arms.

Aided by the obligatory black sidekick and sexy love interest, Cain embarks on a new mission, one that feels like a fourth-rate cable cop show, complete with the requisite snappy repartee and watered-down romance (and I've always found Cain's persona as a heart-throb questionable--here, all pasty-white and suffering from rigor mortis, it's downright improbable, to say nothing of his Sonny Crockett wardrobe).

Director Patrick Dinhut keeps things as technically competent as a good workhorse should, but his ham-fisted handling of the action sequences rob them of any excitement. He also has a tendency to play to the movie's dumber aspects, favoring lunkheaded humor over horror or gore. It's a generic zombie movie that really wants to be a generic buddy-cop movie, but fails to be good as either.

Devoid of charm, energy, or laughs, DEAD AND DEADER is the kind of schedule-filling garbage the Sci-Fi Channel thrives on. A more accurate title would be DULL AND DULLER. Skip it.

DAY 357--FOREVER DEAD

2008-11-05T16:58:00.002-05:00

Proving that NIGHT OF THE LEPUS is not the worst rabbit-related horror film ever made, Christine Parker's 2007 video-bound stink-bomb FOREVER DEAD also breaks the gender barrier in crappy micro-budget filmmaking, illustrating that women can make 'em just as badly as men.

Saving its only shred of originality for its premise--an escaped rabbit, used as part of unorthodox scientific experiments, is the carrier of the zombie plague--FOREVER DEAD is another example of the talentless, by-the-numbers dross that makes up a solid third of this project's reviews. Boring and dumb, with pitiful performances, lame attempts at humor, and negligible gore effects, I might've overlooked its unoriginality if the direction hadn't been so flat. But Parker shoots her film with such a lack of energy and verve that it lays on the screen, limp as a damp paper towel.

Remember, just because you really love zombie films, that doesn't qualify you to make one. FOREVER DEAD is a shining example of that fact.

DAY 356--DEAD COUNTRY

2008-11-05T16:29:00.002-05:00

The first 45 seconds of DEAD COUNTRY--a 2008 amateur-night production from director Andrew Merkelbach--features enough atrocious acting, lazy camerawork, and ghastly CGI for an entire movie. A craftless, dunderheaded shot-on-video mess, this is the sort of fanboy love letter I can do without.

A spaceship explodes over the town of Romero--gee, what a subtle and innovative reference, the likes of which I've never seen--infecting the populace with an alien virus that turns them into zombies. And into that rivetingly fresh scenario steps director Merkelbach, the extra-terrestrial responsible, who tries to keep the plague from spreading before it's too late.

DEAD COUNTRY is the kind of DIY ineptitude that throws in fully-clothed sex scenes, meaningless title cards (do we really need to be reminded that December 25 is Christmas Day?), and enough slow-mo tit shots to satisfy a junior-varsity basketball team. In addition to being an unconscionably bad actor, Merkelbach flails as a filmmakers as well, bearing an inconsistent visual style that alternates between cheap video-based sloppiness or the intentionally-scratched look that went stale twenty minutes after GRINDHOUSE hit theaters. Stupid, unfunny, with zombie makeup so bad Andreas Schnaas would balk--life's too short for crap like this, even with the abundant female flesh on display (though I don't think any amount of skin could save this tripe). Even a rare cameo by drive-in legend Ted V. Mikels, and a not-so-rare cameo by Lloyd Kaufman, can't keep this afloat.

For self-loathers only.

DAY 355--THE MAD

2008-10-30T16:31:00.003-04:00

If, like me, you find the idea of a zombie hamburger delightfully stupid, then you may be inclined to check out THE MAD, a seriously flawed but fun 2007 release from director Johnny Kalangis that often teeters on the brink of genius.

A white-bread suburban family (led by venerable character actor Billy Zane, totally out of place as a straight-laced dad, even with the David Cross hipster glasses) vacationing in a bucolic farm community soon finds their itinerary disrupted when trouble brews at the local restaurant. It seems the ranch that supplies their beef has been infected with a strain of Mad Cow disease, transferring to the people who consume it and making them marauding, rampaging zombies.

As horror-comedy set-ups go, Kalangis has the makings of a winner, but his comedy is too uneven to really work. The humor works best when it's subtle, but the broad slapstick, which constitutes most of the laughs, doesn't fare quite so well and degenerates to sloppy silliness as the film wears on.

THE MAD also suffers from several narrative missteps, including a too-familiar plotline, some very predictable characters arcs, and an indulgent, self-referential zombie discussion, not to mention a third act that grinds the story to a halt when it should be hitting full-throttle (even at 82 minutes, it's still 20 minutes too long). Kalangis has a penchant for stylistic flourishes involving quick editing and skewed camera angles that add nothing, which leads to one of the worst blowjob-related scenes in recent memory.

Yet despite these significant faults, THE MAD entertains for the most part thanks to a couple of genuine surprises (as in the people who don't survive) and an incredibly game cast. Zane keeps up his dependable-but-bland persona (leaving behind the smarminess that creeps into many of his roles), and supporting females Maggie Castle and Shauna MacDonald breathe life and charisma into potenitally cardboard characters--especially the latter, who channels Annette Benning's manic perfection from AMERICAN BEAUTY.

Though it could've done more in the gore department--the scenario was perfect for an over-the-top bloodbath, though I doubt Kalangis is really the director for one--THE MAD is still worth a look-see. Prepare yourself for a little frustration and you'll be all set.

DAY 354--RETURN OF THE DASTARDLY ZOMBIE VAMPIRE MUMMY FROM PLANET X

2008-10-28T14:43:00.000-04:00

Equally obnoxious is the short film, RETURN OF THE DASTARDLY ZOMBIE VAMPIRE MUMMY FROM PLANET X, which Brian Singleton made in 1998, and serves as a bonus feature on the FOREST OF THE DEAD DVD. In many ways it serves as a dry run for the inanity that constitutes FOREST--lame-brain comedy, ghastly performances (which are essentially "actors" speaking in the most annoying accents possible), and crappy effects, it's a punishing 17-minute "homage" to bad horror flicks of yesteryear.

Too bad it forgot to be as entertaining as those schlocky B pictures.

There's little plot to speak of, so I won't, but I will say it's the first time I've ever seen a monster dispatched by a suit-and-sombrero-wearing pistolero. (It's utterly stupid, to be sure, but original nonetheless). Certainly not worth checking out on its own--and barely worth seeing if you rent the FOREST DVD--it's a slice of chuckleheaded nonsense that's easily forgotten.

DAY 353--FOREST OF THE DEAD

2008-10-28T14:38:00.002-04:00

Thank God it will all be over soon.

In just a few more days I won't have to subject myself to movies like FOREST OF THE DEAD, a 2007 production from Canadian director Brian Singleton. On the surface a laudable example of the micro-budget DIY ethic--not only did he finance the project wholly out of his own pocket, but Singleton acted as a one-man crew, filming and recording sound with solely the assistance of off-screen actors--it soon buries any goodwill beneath a toppling mound of obnoxious characters, numbskull humor, and thin plotting.

Taking its cue from the "dumb teenagers dying the woods" school of '80s filmmaking, DEAD involves a carload of insufferable assholes on a road trip who make a detour into the forest. Loud, asinine, and not the least bit amusing, these so-called protagonists are the perfect target for the flesh-eating zombies that await them, which would've made for a trying, but potentially gory, teen-kill flick. But in a shocking-in-a-bad-way plot twist, Singleton quickly does away with them so he can introduce another group of characters even more noisome than the first. What did I do to deserve these people?

Singleton offers up an adequate smorgasbord of splatter towards the end--juvenile, uninventive splatter, but still--yet in order to get to it you've got to sift through a lot of talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk. Boring and uneventful barely describe it, and the screenplay--penned by Singleton and his brother Mark--helps little with the ever-present bad amateur dialogue. Trying to be edgy and hip, passing off one-dimensional stereotypes, they come off not as envelope-pushing comedians but alarmingly antisocial bastards.

Narratively weak (once Final Girl bites it, the movie's over, as there's no more plot motivation) and self-indulgent (bearing not only an unnecessary director introduction--dammit, if Kubrick and Scorcese never felt the need why do amateur filmmakers always do?--and nearly nine minutes of "wacky" outtakes), FOREST OF THE DEAD is a typical representation of the the headache-inducing dross that litters micro-budget cinema.

DAY 352--OZONE

2008-10-28T14:35:00.000-04:00

Another hunk of Akron-lensed hooey from director J.R. Bookwalter, 1993's OZONE isn't quite as bad as some of his other shot-on-video work (sort of like how a broken finger isn't as bad as a severed hand), but it's still a far cry from THE DEAD NEXT DOOR. A mishmash of the cop and horror genres, OZONE displays a little ambition, though its low budget and shaky craftsmanship prevent it from really taking off.

James Black--who almost has the chops to be above dreck like this--stars as a police detective on the trail of a dealer pushing a new drug called Ozone that turns its users into zombies. When his partner is abducted by Ozone addicts, Black picks up the search, a journey that takes some strange--but not strange enough--turns once he becomes injected with the drug himself.

Though it boasts some fairly solid production values (considering its budget and year of its release), OZONE suffers from so many avoidable pitfalls. Poor performances from the supporting cast don't help, particularly the unconvincing bad guys, but the biggest flaw lies in its plot. Dream sequences exist solely to showcase gratuitous effects (including the then-prevalent use of morphing technology), an overabundance of cop-movie cliches such as the maverick detective getting bawled out by the chief (some of these scenes feel intentional, but regardless they make watching the movie a chore), and some oddball subplots (such as the underground fighting ring where combatants fight each other with oversized pizza cutters). Throw in a drug kingpin that resembles one of Jabba the Hutt's Gammorrhean guards, and you've got a flick that tries too hard and delivers too little.

Filled with continuity errors--a half-naked Black escapes the fight club, only to round a corner fully dressed or zombies with makeup that never goes past their jawline--and other amateurish hallmarks, OZONE is a slow-paced, unintentionally humorous mess. I'm sure there are bad-movie completists who'll want to add this to their must-see lists, but I'd advise them to steer clear.

DAY 351--LIFEFORCE

2008-10-28T13:21:00.002-04:00

A would-be blockbuster, Tobe Hooper's 1985 film LIFEFORCE was an attempt on the part of producers Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus to replicate the cash-cow success of STAR WARS. To say they failed is putting it mildly, and at first glance you might be surprised--the film is exceptionally crafted, with a rousing Henry Mancini score, opticals by visual fx guru John Dykstra, and great cinematography by Alan Hume--but once you really look at it, it's a wonder it made any money at all.

Working with a screenplay by ALIEN's Dan O'Bannon and Don Jakoby, based on Colin Wilson's novel THE SPACE VAMPIRES (yes, I know this is technically a vampire movie, but give me a chance to explain in a bit), LIFEFORCE is purportedly a science fiction story, but its plot shifts gears so often that any potential audience is repeatedly, ahem, alienated.

It's not that the central concept is a bad one--vampiric creatures discovered in space are brought to Earth, who quickly spread a plague of the living dead throughout London--but after starting out like an erotic variant of ALIEN (in the form of Mathilda May, easily the film's best visual) with a healthy dose of mystery and tension, it loses its momentum once it returns to terra firma and becomes a slick, sf-tinged vampire tale (witness the dream sequence in which May visits a slumbering Steve Railsback, a classic succubus scenario if there ever was one).

The vampire element is probably the strongest plot thread, yet its most intriguing aspects are left unexplored. While obviously needing to set up May's spreading of the plague (funny--every single scene of the lovely Ms. May waltzing around nude runs much longer than the rhythm of said scene requires, yet I never really complained), Hooper and his screenwriters concentrate instead on the investigative portion of the event; it gives the film a meandering, dry second act that it never fully recovers from.

Once it finally kicks gears into apocalyptic-horror mode, I was ready to call it quits (as I do every time I watch this film). It's also at this point that Golan and Globus's blockbuster-envy shines through, as it strains itself toward a GHOSTBUSTERS-styled climax--without the demonic dogs, of course. By then the faint heart of its emotional core, the quasi-spiritual/sexual relationship between May and Railsback, is lost beneath an orgy of gee-whiz optical effects. (And I can't help but wonder what this movie would look like in today's CGI wonderland, especially the scene in which blood from Patrick Stewart's unbelievably fake-looking head creates a vision of May.)

As for the zombies . . . while I can't entirely hate a movie that shoehorns them into the story, it's very plainly stated that these creatures are vampires; they're referred to as such, fer cryin' out loud. Yet the monsters running around London, feasting on any available victim, appear to be zombies. They certainly behave like them, and the film presents them in a similar fashion (even foreshadowing films like 28 WEEKS LATER). It's confusing, to say the least, but it's probably part of the producers' need to appeal to every single movie-going demographic.

LIFEFORCE is a wildly uneven film that offers the occasional pay-off, but--at the risk of sounding like a sexist pig--its greatest asset is the inclusion of one of the best naked performances in genre history.

DAY 350--RABID GRANNIES

2008-10-27T20:42:00.002-04:00

RABID GRANNIES, a 1988 Belgian production from director Emmanuel Kervyn, is a gore film that takes out all the gore. Picked up for domestic distribution by Troma--who included the truncated splatter in a separate reel, which isn't quite as fun when taken out of context--it's more about demonic possession rather than zombies, but like Lamberto Bava's DEMONS films, which it frequently echoes, it hews very close to the established zombie formula.

A pair of kind elderly women host a birthday party, in which all of their greedy, rude, and self-absorbed relatives are invited. When the ladies are infected by a demonic presence--as part of a present from their Satan-worshipping nephew Christopher--they transform into rampaging monsters equipped with Krueger-esque claws, slaughtering their way through their ungrateful family.

The fun of a movie like RABID GRANNIES is the lowbrow thrill of non-stop grue, broad slapstick humor, and maybe a little skin. By removing all the gore (which also ruins the impact of a rather ballsy scene involving a dismembered child) it also removes its reason for being, leaving behind a film that isn't very enjoyable without it. The little mayhem that remains is often interrupted by long, pointless stretches of conversation, and the humor that could've tied these scenes together isn't nearly as funny as it should be.

The cast is comprised of such ugly, amoral people that there's no one to root for, and their comeuppances are so restrained that we can't even revel when they're mowed down. Bereft of creativity, RABID GRANNIES coasts on its premise without the energy or excitement that's crucial to a good splatter film.

DAY 349--QUARANTINE

2008-10-27T19:31:00.002-04:00

All I'm going to say is, Thank God I work at a movie theater; otherwise I'd have had to pay my own money to see this dreck.

As part of Hollywood's continued obsession with remaking well-made foreign films, the 2008 picture QUARANTINE is, as I'm sure you're aware, a redo of the Spanish release [REC] (which I'll be unable to view by the end of this project--a shame, since it's supposed to be far superior). Since this crap-sandwich is still playing in theaters, at least until the equally execrable SAW V draws its core demographic away, I'll spare the usual synopsis and get right to the lambasting.

I've never been a big fan of the hand-held style of filmmaking. I didn't mind it in, say, CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST or THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, mostly because the technique was never a distraction. But its recent use in movies like CLOVERFIELD, 28 WEEKS LATER, and the BOURNE sequels, it ceases to enhance the story and becomes irritating, confusing, and (in this case) nauseating. Note to director John Erick Dowdle: if you're going to place subtle visual clues in your story, steady the goddamn camera long enough for us to fucking see them, okay?

Plot-wise, QUARANTINE does a decent job of setting up its premise, and the the mounting sense of danger is handled well. But once we get to the meat of the story, and its rabid zombie-like creatures are revealed, the film becomes a dull, repetitive cinematic funhouse ride as the characters face monsters in one uninspired scene after another. That in of itself wouldn't be so bad if the movie didn't feel so much like a 28 WEEKS LATER/DAWN OF THE DEAD clone. There isn't anything fresh or unique to be found here, and as soon as the realization settles in, QUARANTINE becomes quite a slog.

Which leads into the film's problematic third act, a blurry, night-vision sequence as star Jennifer Carpenter makes her way through the darkened corridors of the sealed building. What could've been a taut, knuckle-busting segment is reduced to shrill, never-ending boredom, and at the heart of it lies Carpenter's performance. Now, I got the idea she was a fluff-reporter thrust in over her head, so I could forgive her being somewhat weak, but listening to her shriek and cry for twenty-some minutes was interminable. Was her reaction believable and realistic? Certainly, but this is a narrative, not a documentary, and having your protagonist carry on like a five-year-old with a skinned knee is disappointing and annoying.

QUARANTINE is the kind of movie that makes the current genre scene so disheartening. Knowing that a brilliant and frightening film like Michael Dougherty's TRICK R TREAT remains unreleased while the remake-and-SAW sausage factory rolls on just makes me sad, and more than a little angry. And judging from the reaction I saw at work the last couple of weekends, I don't see it changing soon.

DAY 348--NOT ANOTHER ZOMBIE MOVIE

2008-10-20T15:40:00.000-04:00

Funny, I was thinking the same thing.

DAY 347--HYSTERICAL

2008-10-20T14:36:00.003-04:00

HYSTERICAL is a 1983 AIRPLANE-style comedy showcasing the Hudson Brothers, a '70s-era comedy troupe now relegated to obscurity (and if this movie's any indication, obscurity couldn't have come quick enough). Astonishingly low on laughs, it's notable only for the respectable character actors roped into it (including Murray Hamilton, Bud Cort, and Julie Newmar).

Bill Hudson stars as a Harold Robbins-esque bestselling author who takes a soul-searching vacation to a coastal Oregon town. His relaxation is cut short by the appearance of a vengeful spirit who appears in the lighthouse home he's renting 100 years after her suicide; as part of her plan, she raises the corpse of her long-dead lover Captain Howdy (Richard Kiel, cast only to justify a vague JAWS reference), who turns the townsfolk into zombies so . . . actually, I have no idea why.

Even if the plot didn't jump around like a caffeine-addled child, or had made a lick of sense, HYSTERICAL still would appeal strictly to undiscriminating ten-year-olds, thanks to its abysmal joke-to-laugh ratio. I would say most of the gags are tremendously dated, since it mines early-eighties pop culture for much of its comedy, but it sticks to high-profile mainstream material--RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, THE EXORCIST, THE SHINING, etc.--so what little jokes there are somewhat hold up. (And should give you an idea of what EPIC MOVIE will look like in twenty years.) Only a brief bit involving John Larroquette as a pot-smoking boat-tour guide--Bob's Big Buoy, ho-ho)--got any real laughs out of me.

With production values giving it the look of a '70s TV movie, HYSTERICAL is little more than a curio. The Hudson Brothers, along with co-writer and director Chris Bearde, made a movie that might've been funny at a Catskills comedy club circa 1952, but remains relatively worthless in the harsh reality of the new millennium.

It's still better than MEET THE SPARTANS, though.

(Special thanks--I think--to Michael Anthony for providing a copy of this film.)

DAY 346--EXHUMED

2008-10-20T14:06:00.002-04:00

I'm a big fan of anthology films, so I was really looking forward to Brian Clement's EXHUMED, a three-part feature released in 2003 that deals with the resurrection of the dead. Thematically ambitious, it nonetheless disappoints not only by being a mediocre picture, but it also never dares to fulfill the challenge it sets for itself.

After a brief, and needless, introduction by a cadaverous Serling surrogate we get into the first story, "The Forest of Death." Set during feudal Japan, it's a novel backdrop for a zombie tale, but the segment is hamstrung by poor acting and a thin plot with a weak resolution. Still, it's well-photographed, and it's nice to see a domestic DIY film shot in another language.

Faring about as well is the next installment, "Shadow of Tomorrow," a 1940's-set science fiction/detective mash-up that creates a great film-noir atmosphere but has an equally flimsy cast to go with it (especially its lead, a would-be hardboiled dame that delivers an awful performance). It too is a lightweight, disposable story, featuring one of the worst nightclub scenes in recent memory; it also has very little to do with the living dead, and capped with an abrupt ending, leading into . . .

"Last Rumble," the final segment, a post-apocalyptic juvenile delinquent tale that chronicles a war between vampires and werewolves, orchestrated for the government's enjoyment. Besides having absolutely nothing to do with zombies, it's easily the weakest portion of the film. Brimming with oodles of cut-rate gore, it plays like every other micro-budget action/splatter flick, with lame fight sequences and desperate, crass scenes of lesbian sex. It's also the least interesting of the three visually, looking cheap and tawdry instead of end-of-the-world bleak and gritty.

Clement ends EXHUMED with a weird epilogue that ties all three stories together, saddled with exposition as if were going out of style, but it adds nothing to the overall movie. If anything, it makes it even more confusing.

EXHUMED would've been more successful if it hadn't used its structure and various settings as window dressing, and actually explored them with some manner of depth. Hell, any one of these could've justified their own feature-length treatment. But by being as superficial as possible, Clement sabotages his chance of creating something unique.

DAY 345--THE REVOLTING DEAD

2008-10-20T13:17:00.002-04:00

The problem with this 2003 shot-on-video production is that it gets the revolting part right, the dead not so much. Directed by Michael Su--who, you might remember, also made the turd-in-disc-form known as DOOMED that I ripped a few weeks back--this wannabe screwball zombie flick too silly and nonsensical to be worth watching. Or reviewing.

The Tehachapi Flats mortuary has long been guilty of unscrupulous business practices, among them graverobbing and casket recycling (though they've got nothing on Ray Dannis is THE UNDERTAKER AND HIS PALS, the king of shady morticians), but when they target the grave of a Druid priest, his sister uses her otherworldly powers to get revenge.

Loaded with terrible acting and sloppily assembled, THE REVOLTING DEAD's as funny as a groin injury. The only thing it does well is its gratuitous nudity; the rest is pitiful DIY filmmaking at its worst, livened only by a last-minute appearance by a laughably bad, barely articulate zombie "puppet" that entertains by virtue of its shoddiness.

There's a smidgeon of gore to be found, but doubtless you'll be asleep by the time it comes. A punishing excuse for a movie.

DAY 344--NECROVILLE

2008-10-17T15:24:00.002-04:00

Horror-comedies are the proverbial dime a dozen, and a particularly ubiquitous stripe is the slacker-doofus comedy, which more often than not aims to be as cult-friendly as SHAUN OF THE DEAD or CLERKS, yet never bothers to bring anything new to the table (or is too thoroughly obnoxious to be watchable). The filmmakers behind this 2007 shot-on-video production, Billy Garberina and Richard Griffin, have the same goal in sight, but their feeble execution leaves much to be desired.

Attempting to be a micro-budget version of GHOSTBUSTERS, NECROVILLE stars Garberina and co-writer Adam Jarmon Brown as two likable knuckleheads who can't seem to hold a job. When Garberina's bitch-on-wheels girlfriend (Brandy Bluejacket, who's almost hot enough to get away with being so deplorable) rides him about his employment prospects, as well as her own financial needs, he and his hetero life-mate sign up at Zom-B-Gone, an extermination company of sorts that specializes in the removal of zombies, vampires, and werewolves.

NECROVILLE is good for a couple of chuckles, but the humor is never as clever, perverse, or sharp as it should be. It tries to be "edgy," but usually ends up being juvenile and crass. The leads are likable enough, though Bluejacket's performance is the wrong kind of over-the-top and hard to sit through. Garberina isn't quite as good here as he was in THE STINK OF FLESH (speaking of which, look for that film's star Kurly Tlapoyawa and director Scott Phillips in small roles), but he's got the lovable goofball bit down pat.

Though its inspiration clearly owes a debt to GHOSTBUSTERS, as would any film involving blue-collar fighters of the supernatural, but NECROVILLE follows Ivan Reitman's picture a little too closely, mirroring not only its plot (a vampire uprising unfolds very similar to the way Gozer comes to power) and incidental scenes (a comparable wet-dream gag that doesn't work). It's one thing when a film fails to achieve what it sets out to do, but when it does so while aping another movie it feels like a double waste.

Ultimately I suggest bypassing this one in favor of the aforementioned THE STINK OF FLESH, one of the best zombie flicks in the last few years and an underappreciated little gem.

DAY 343--28 WEEKS LATER

2008-10-17T14:06:00.003-04:00

This review is going to be easier to write than I expected, as my feelings toward 28 WEEKS LATER--director Juan Carlos Fresnadillo's 2007 follow-up to 28 DAYS LATER--are exactly like the first: a well-made movie that left me cold.

Credit belongs to Danny Boyle and Alex Garland for remaining as executive producers and ensuring not only a sense of continuity, but integrity as well; so often once a major horror film makes money it's quickly franchised and morphed into a clone factory (or what the suits like to call "a guaranteed revenue stream"), but WEEKS wisely avoids that trap. Watching the story unfold, I was often reminded of superhero series, and how they can fully develop once the origin story's out of the way. It's not entirely an apt comparison, but Fresnadillo and his screenwriters explore an area we don't really get to see: the emotional toil and societal rebuilding after the virus has been contained.

Much like DAYS, WEEKS has an incredible opening (though I can't express enough how much I hate, hate, hate the use of shaky, hand-held camerawork and rapid-fire editing that makes the action incomprehensible--yet it's interesting to note how it can "graphically" show something without making it clear what's happening) and a greater dramatic resonance, even if it's exhausted early. It's technically amazing, too, with great photography, etc.

However, WEEKS has a somewhat longer build-up than is really necessary, and its lackluster midsection doesn't quite make up for it. Once the virus is reawakened--in a bravura moment, by the way--is quickly falls into the same formulaic storyline, hewing closely to the established when it ought to be cutting its own swath. Fresnadillo creates several potentially intriguing set-pieces, but often undermines them with poor CGI (such as the mass-decapitation by helicopter, featuring fx that have no business in a mainstream motion pciture) or timing (the night-vision stadium sequence, which grows tedious rather than suspenseful). And while it has a more character-driven plot at its heart, its story arc doesn't quite support the overall film, throwing off the emotional momentum of key moments.

Although 28 WEEKS LATER ends on a more downbeat note than its predecessor, I doubt I'll make time for any additional sequels. Although I'm sure it'd be an extremely well-made movie.

DAY 342--KEG OF THE DEAD

2008-10-17T12:59:00.001-04:00

A 16mm student film shot at UC Berkley, KEG OF THE DEAD sounds like a good idea for a college-based horror comedy, but director Paul Schilens plays this 2007 short decidedly one-note, and a pretty sour note at that.

A put-upon pizza delivery boy runs afoul of asshole frat guys (is there any other kind?) while making a drop; not only does he not get paid, but Pizza Dude discovers that zombies are descending upon the Alpha Master Beta house. (Like that joke? Hope so, 'cause it's the only one, and boy does it get some mileage.) Fortunately, he gets to save the day once he learns the living dead are destroyed by beer.

Had it displayed even an iota of creativity and humor, KEG OF THE DEAD might've been worth a chuckle-headed laugh or two, but it's too lame to be any fun. It doesn't even make a good doofus wish-fulfillment, as it's characters are drawn in the broadest possible strokes (and I won't even mention the excruciating acting on hand).

I'd rather pledge the Alpha Betas in REVENGE OF THE NERDS than sit through this one again.

DAY 341--NIGHTMARE CASTLE

2008-10-17T12:55:00.001-04:00

Also known as THE FACELESS MONSTER (whose video box art gives away the surprise at its ending), this 1965 Italian production from director Mario Caiano will appeal to fans of black-and-white Gothic thrillers--being a black-and-white Gothic thriller, I guess that's a given--and the lush, atmospheric work of Mario Bava, to say nothing of the admirers of its star, Barbara Steele.

Steele plays the adulterous wife of a sadistic doctor. When her affair is discovered, she and her lover are tortured to death and, in true Poe-like fashion, sealed within a wall of their castle. Years later, Steele's husband marries her twin sister so he can get to the inheritance he lost. But the spirits of the murdered lovers have remained behind, biding their time to get their revenge.

NIGHTMARE CASTLE--the edited version most commonly found on budget DVD labels--is pretty slow going, and will probably be useless to viewers weaned on more visceral films. Those who appreciate is ambience and mood might still be left restless by its emphasis over melodrama, but in its final reel as Steele and her lover exact their revenge it becomes much more watchable. Perhaps not entirely worth the time it takes getting there, but nonetheless a great example of old-school spook-show horror.

DAY 340--28 DAYS LATER

2008-10-17T11:51:00.002-04:00

Have you noticed that I've waited rather late in this project to review a film as well-known and -received as 28 DAYS LATER? I'll let you in on a little secret: I put it off for so long because I never really cared for it, and was waiting until the proverbial last minute.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I think Danny Boyle's 2002 film is bad; it's undeniably extremely well-crafted, sporting excellent cinematography--which captures a harsh, gritty feel that such a scenario might invoke--and score. When I first watched it, my initial reaction was that it was too sedate for a film about a rage virus, and perhaps that disappointment colored my viewpoint. Seeing it again, however, I'm left with the same feeling as before.

28 DAYS LATER has quite a following, not to mention a surprisingly warm critical reception (thanks to its filmmakers' pedigree), and I wouldn't want to "sway" people to my way of thinking, even if that were possible. Many of you dig this movie, and I've got no problem with that.

So let's call it personal preference, shall we? I think what ultimately did the film in for me the second time around was a consciousness of its similarity to previous films. (Okay, and maybe because the Infected aren't really the "living dead"--I'm an old-school purist, what can I say?) What seemed relatively fresh upon its release--especially to audiences not familiar with the films of Romero, or similar end of the world pictures like, say, THE OMEGA MAN--feels retread and tiresome at this point (then again, I've watched this plot unravel roughly 300 times in the last year). DAYS never strays far from the established apocalyptic formula--a rag-tag group of survivors, set-pieces involving run-ins with the Infected, and an oppressive military presence--though Alex Garland's screenplay takes an intelligent and credible approach.

What did I like about it? I thought the prologue set up a good n' bleak end-of-the-world feel, though the sequence implies a darkness (thematically and narratively) that it never quite fulfills. The tunnel sequence, easily the highlight of the movie, is another good scene, though I wish it had maintained the same style and tension throughout. (My, aren't I all about the backhanded compliments today?) Oh, and Cillian Murphy's first encounter with the Infected--in a church, no less--was great as well. I also thought Boyle handled the violence and gore admirably, getting rougher than a "respectable" director might go, yet exercising the right aesthetic restraint.

Yet despite Boyle's strong directorial eye DAYS never reeled me in, especially once the military steps in. Borrowing heavily from Captain Rhodes and crew from DAY OF THE DEAD, but without their toxic charisma, their portion of the film ground the story to a halt for me. (I'd also seen this type of army occupation done better in Brian Keene's THE RISING, though that novel came after Boyle's film.) Maybe I'd already anticipated the reveal that the soldiers weren't as altruistic as they first seemed, but I found myself growing steadily antsy. And the climax, in which the Infected are let in the compound to aid their escape, has nothing on the similar finale of Romero's DAY.

So, the verdict? 28 DAYS LATER is a good film that just didn't do it for me. Probably not something I'll watch very often, but a cerebral and skillful entry into the neo-zombie cannon.

DAY 339--STIFF ODDS

2008-10-16T16:53:00.002-04:00

You want stiff odds? How about making it past the fifteen-minute mark of this noisome shot-on-video pseudo-comedy without ejecting the DVD in disgust. This 2004 feature from director Caleb Allen is the cinematic equivalent of a blaring car alarm that won't shut off. As stupid as it is obnoxious, STIFF ODDS is an enticing as a trip to a crowded Wal-Mart on a busy weekend.

Any movie that kicks off with a three-minute static two-shot of nimrod buddies blathering is going to be trouble, and STIFF ODDS lives up to its promise. Not much about the movie is clear--something about the Grim Reaper reviving three zombies to help settle a gambling debt--because the movie flits about like a depraved hyperactive child, hoping that if it moves frantically enough it'll be mistaken for a real story. This dumb, dumb, dumb film falls prey to the ever-present DIY pitfall of setting WAY too much of the movie in unending, boring conversation, though the alternative is hardly better; replacing genuine action with juvenile flailing and comedy with asinine behavior, it quickly becomes an exhausting experience. (Allen tries livening things up with cheap, "trippy" special effects, but abandons this technique early on--the only irritating thing he gives up.) Considering the out-putting soundtrack of grating music and sound effects, such as a baby crying, I wonder if Allen was deliberately making an annoying film, and if so, why?

Performances consist of actors out-screeching each other, so we'll ignore them, but Gabe Strachota stands out as a fairly creepy, red-skinned Reaper (so what if he's something out of Marilyn Manson's wet dreams, at least he's not your standard Hooded Dude with a Scythe); with better execution or a different film he might've worked, but he's as shrill and piercing as the rest of the cast.

I'd rather have a couple of casino goons work on my kneecaps than subject myself to STIFF ODDS again.

DAY 338--LINNEA QUIGLEY'S HORROR WORKOUT

2008-10-16T15:16:00.002-04:00

Definitely filed under "Special Interest," this 1990 straight-to-tape novelty from director Kenneth J. Hall (hiding under the pseudonym Hal Kennedy) is part horror-comedy, part softcore porn, and all an unabashed celebration of the ultimate '80s scream queen.

Beginning with the requisite shower scene (whaddya expect--it's a Linnea Quigley movie!), it's almost a video diary of sorts as Ms. Quigley, decked out in the eightiest of fashions, discusses her filmic career before getting into her workout. Don't bother with the sweatsuit for this one, fellas, since the only thing you're supposed to be working out--judging from Linnea's exercise apparel consisting of a studded bra and fishnet stockings--is your johnson. Linnea also encounters some out-of-shape zombies while jogging--and the result is what Michael Jackson's THRILLER would look like if it starred Richard Simmons--and invites some girlfriends over for a slumber party/exercise session. Have you gotten the idea this thing really isn't meant to be taken seriously?

With all the production value of a cable access program, this hour-long lark looks as if it was slapped together in a single day. Obviously, no one really gives a shit about that, but even as an excuse to ogle Linnea's goodies it's not nearly as titillating as it should be; there's very little nudity, and most of the routines are either too silly, too repetitive, or too conservative to be of any interest save for curiosity. (I've seen legitimate workout videos more erotic than this--anyone remember BODY BY KIANA?) Fans of Linnea might still be inclined, but too often she seems either bored or stoned, which doesn't exactly make it sexy.

LINNEA QUIGLEY'S HORROR WORKOUT is best appreciated by us Gen-Xers who stayed up to watch Linnea on USA's UP ALL NIGHT (and promptly headed for the bathroom during commercial breaks). Not funny enough to be a comedy, and not hot enough to be jerk-off material, it occupies a weird in-between that'll disappoint all but the most loyal (or desperate) fans.

DAY 337--DEATH BRINGS

2008-10-16T15:14:00.001-04:00

The one thing this not-bad 2008 homemade short doesn't do is answer the burning question: Just what does death bring? A Bundt cake?

Seriously, though, director Alex Joyce has made a pretty decent housebound zombie film, though I would've preferred to see him strike out with his own creative endeavor and not slavishly copy Zack Snyder's DAWN OF THE DEAD remake. Though DEATH BRINGS is as unimaginative as a lot of these types of shorts are--though Joyce does employ a nice use of creative lighting--it at least lacks the insufferable forced humor and showboating that tends to accompany them. (To be fair, Joyce attempts a dramatic ending, but orchestral music choice makes it unintentionally humorous.)

Technically, you get what you expect from a non-professional crew (though I've seen worse), and the cast has an annoying habit of mumbling their lines--bad move from a movie this talky.
And I'll (very begrudgingly) give you your fast zombies, Alex, but next time can you at least make them look like dead people?

DAY 336--GANGS OF THE DEAD

2008-10-16T14:39:00.002-04:00

Originally titled LAST RITES, this 2006 video-based production from director Duane Stinnett proved to be a pleasant surprise, much better than its obscurity suggests it to be. Far from a perfect film, it offers a degree of craftsmanship and skill not readily found in shot-on-video cinema.

An amalgam of DAWN OF THE DEAD and RESERVOIR DOGS, GANGS OF THE DEAD details the uneasy transactions of two rival gangs in an abandoned Los Angeles warehouse (overseen by the always-awesome Reggie Bannister) just as a meteor hits the city, turning those who come into contact into flesh-eating zombies. The gang-bangers soon find themselves having to make peace with the LAPD, if only to escape the undead that've infiltrated the warehouse.

An impressively solid micro-budget film, GANGS gets underway with a very well-executed prologue involving the meteor's landing that boasts much better CGI than we normally see (owing to Stinnett's background in the video-game industry, no doubt). As I stated earlier, Stinnett's got some definite directorial chops, and it's a shame his movie hasn't gotten a bigger, or better, reception; however, as strong a filmmaker as he is, GANGS is missing a few intangible elements that prevents it from being a no-budget classic.

It boils down to the two biggies, story and characterization. While most likely a budgetary decision, the conceit of fighting zombies trapped in a single location is a mighty stale one, and Stinnett never makes the setting fresh. And though he does an excellent job whenever the zombies are on-screen--capturing well-shot sequences of chaos that a lesser director would fumble--the movie suffers whenever the dead aren't around, as his characters just aren't vivid enough to sustain interest (with the notable exception of Bannister; unfortunately, once he's killed off the cast can't compensate for his absence). The performances are by and large quite good, largely avoiding stereotypes (except for the ineffectual white guy who exists solely to illustrate just how ineffectual white guys can be).

Some excellent gore and a nice downbeat ending ultimately makes GANGS OF THE DEAD worth the investment, and most die-hard zombie fans might even enjoy some of those standard tropes. Stinnett hasn't directed a feature since, but I'm very much interested in seeing what he does next.

DAY 335--HUNTING CREATURES

2008-10-12T18:58:00.003-04:00

A weak action/horror hybrid, HUNTING CREATURES is a German shot-on-video production from writer-directors Andreas Pape and Oliver Kellisch. Apparently part of an underground-film collective in their native country, these filmmakers illustrate that flavorless, Tarantino-derivative films are not exclusive to U.S. soil.

An unoriginal gangsters-vs.-monsters movie, CREATURES offers nothing new; it's another example of directors imitating their favorite movies without an innate understanding of how those films work. What we get are slimy monsters facing off against a group of wannabe tough-guys who're wholly unconvincing as badasses, muddily edited and shot on horrible-quality video that's difficult to watch. Stuffed to bursting with faux-cool dialogue, which plays a bigger part in the proceedings than zombie-fighting, it's a transparent attempt on the actors' part to be bad and impress girls that fools no one.

There's a helping of cheesy gore, but not enough to make it worth the effort. The kind of movie that puts more thought into the posters on the wall than characterization (no need to impress us with your FROM DUSK 'TIL DAWN one-sheet, fellas--we knew you were unabashed fanboys from minute one).

Let these CREATURES go.

DAY 334--ACNE

2008-10-12T17:55:00.002-04:00

This weird little flick, made by director Rusty Nails in 2005, will definitely appeal to offbeat sensibilities, even if the overall film is a little weak. On the surface it appears to be a send-up of vintage science fiction flicks, and is to a degree, but ACNE is rooted deeper in the underground art scene than with the likes of Roger Corman.

Two siblings--Franny and Zooey, played by Tracey Hayes and Nails, respectively--drink contaminated water and find themselves as zit-headed "zombies." (Though the zombie angle is aggravatingly inconsistent; they're not the living dead, nor are they in a trance-like state, or anything else commonly known as zombies, yet Nails evokes undead films often, using bleak exteriors that could've been outtakes from NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD.) Oozing pus from their pustule-crowned heads, the two teenagers spread the infection, causing the local youth population to sprout zit-heads and crave chocolate.

ACNE will be best appreciated by fans of transgressive or surreal cinema. Nails does a pretty good job replicating the '50s sci-fi look, but his black-and-white cinematography bears greater influence from Luis Bunuel or early Lynch. A frequently compelling and well-conceived piece, this film works best as a nontraditional visual fabric. (Nails's inventiveness really shines in a great bit involving a fire-and-brimstone preacher at his pulpit that features no real dialogue.) It's when it tries to approach a standard narrative that ACNE falters, as Nails gives his story too many talkative digressions and silly subplots, with humor that falls flat.

Like most experimental films, ACNE isn't for everyone, but fans of arthouse cinema and the open-minded may find the experience rewarding. Nails is a breath of anarchic air, the perfect antidote to mainstream stagnation.

DAY 333--THE DEAD

2008-10-12T17:33:00.003-04:00

Okay, I've featured plenty of student/homemade short films in the past, and though I try to give them slack for what they are, they're still usually hard to sit through, of interest mostly to friends and immediate family of the filmmakers (and sometimes even that's debatable). And while THE DEAD, a 200 short from directors Marten Oravas and Urmas Salu, is in many ways no different, but something about it really got to me and I found really fun.

Made by kids who are probably still looking forward to junior-high orientation, and as simple-minded as a zombie movie made in one afternoon, THE DEAD possesses a childish enthusiasm that overcomes the obvious humor and awkward performances (hell, you should watch it just to hear the lead kid scream).

Yes, it's just children playing pretend, but the photography and editing are surprisingly solid, and the cribbed soundtrack (including Godsmack over the fight sequences) isn't as jarring as it usually is when used this way. (And hey, for someone who's just grown their pubes, this kid can kick some zombie ass.) It even has a story of sorts, though its Pied Piperish ending had me scratching my head.

DAY 332--INSANE IN THE BRAIN

2008-10-12T16:56:00.002-04:00

Can you tell I've been scraping the bottom of the zombie barrel?

INSANE IN THE BRAIN is a reprehensible in-name-only comedy directed by Chad Hendricks in 2007. A would-be spoof of blaxploitation and zombie films, INSANE bears closer resemblance to a third-rate IN LIVING COLOR sketch. The concept, in which pheromones from an inner-city whorehouse awaken the dead to become horny zombies, has definite potential for a raunchy horror-comedy, but Hendrick's oh-so-tedious execution renders the film as enjoyable as a water-boarding session.

If the embarrassingly bad zombie make-up and annoyingly repetitive dialogue isn't enough to drive you from the room--and it should be--Hendricks offers up a buddy-cop subplot that strives to be a pimped-out STARSKY AND HUTCH spoof but remains a desperate assemblage of ghetto stereotypes. (Tip: afros and pimp suits do not a blaxploitation parody make.) That the film is far from the spirit and style of '70s soul cinema (much the same way a dead-baby joke is far from the wit of Oscar Wilde) can be overlooked if it delivers the gory goods, but wouldn't you know it, Hendricks fumbles this ball too. Most of the "horror" seems to involve blow-jobs gone bad--in fact, so much of the film's supposed humor is dick-centric I can't help but wonder about the director's intention--and besides, it takes a backseat to the "comedy," so zombie fans will get the shortest shrift of all here.

A monumental failure at everything it attempts, INSANE IN THE BRAIN made me want to rip out my eyes so I could stuff them in my ears. Easily among the worst movies reviewed for 365 Days.

DAY 331--DORM OF THE DEAD

2008-10-09T23:23:00.002-04:00

DORM OF THE DEAD, a 2006 video-bound feature, was directed by Donald F. Farmer. If you're familiar with the cinematic atrocities Mr. Farmer has committed (Exhibit A: the spectacularly awful rape-revenge pic SAVAGE VENGEANCE), then feel free to skip this review. Trust me, I won't be saying anything you don't already know.

Sort of a LIVING DEAD MEAN GIRL, taking place at Arkham University (is there a cheaper in-joke than a Lovecraft reference?), DORM's threadbare scenario involves a rivalry between bitchy campus queens Jackie Hall and Andrea Ownby and Goth chicks Adrianna Eder and Ciara Richards. When a zombie outbreak infects the university, the Goth girls finally find a way to settle the score, but find themselves way over their heads.

There's no way to sugar-coat it, so I'll just say it: WORST ACTING EVER. Even with the lovely Tiffany Shepis gracing this film (a credit that DORM does not deserve) this has got to be the most incompetent assemblage of actors this side of gonzo porn. At least the crappy performances suit the lousy writing, direction, photography, gore effects (Herschell Gordon Lewis never would've tried to pass off these fx), etc.--over two decades of filmmaking experience, and Farmer still doesn't have a clue about making movies. But what do you expect from a director who ruins a perfectly good lesbian sex scene with ghastly techno music?

Yikes. Just yikes.

DAY 330--DOOMED

2008-10-09T22:40:00.002-04:00

You certainly are, if you dare to put this 2007 shot-on-video crapfest into your DVD player. Directed by Michael Su, DOOMED is ostensibly a parody of SURVIVOR with an undead twist, but the overall execution is done so poorly that fans of both reality TV and zombies will be utterly bored and disappointed. (If you want to see this type of thing done right, check out Brian Keene's novel CASTAWAYS, about an island-bound reality show beset by monsters, due in bookstores this January.)

In a premise that sounds awfully similar to THE RUNNING MAN, a near-future competition-based reality show pits teams of convicted felons against each other for the chance of early release, as well as a $50 million prize. The contestants are dropped on the Isola de Romero (sigh), unaware--though they should be, given the glaring zombie-flick reference--that the island's living dead population will be their biggest challenge.

DOOMED might've worked if it had attempted to satirize the conventions of reality TV or voyeuristic entertainment, but all it does is simply replicate an ordinary episode of SURVIVOR; I've never been fond of the show, which increased my tedium tenfold, but even a die-hard fan would be put off by this. Instead of drama or tension, the flimsy screenplay gives us scripted recreations of reality-TV bickering, and substitutes types for characters. And when Su finally gives us an action sequence, it's punctuated with annoying video-game "hit points" that tally up the damage, a detail that gets increasingly exhausting each time it's employed.

Laughably inept, boring beyond belief, DOOMED keeps its zombies off-screen much of the time, breaking them out only when it's time to thin the cast. (If I told you their appearances were edited so quickly as to be incomprehensible, would you be surprised?) At a meager 76 minutes it's still stretched to the snapping point, finished off with a stupid cop-out ending that would've enraged me, if I hadn't already hated this movie from the get-go.

I'd rather be stranded on a desert island, eating a fried rat off Richard Hatch's bare ass than watch this thing again.

DAY 329--UNIVERSITY OF THE LIVING DEAD

2008-10-07T19:29:00.000-04:00

When I caught the charming British short I RAN FROM A ZOMBIE on Day 316 I felt like I'd discovered something special; at least I knew not every student zombie short was destined to be awful. My good fortune, however, was short-lived, having run smack into UNIVERSITY OF THE LIVING DEAD, a Swedish-produced short from 2008 that embraces everything that makes amateur productions so hard to sit through.

The version I watched, and available below, fails to include credits, so I'm not sure who's responsible for this thing (and I don't have the inclination to look it up--but feel free if you'd like), and it is in untranslated Swedish, but the dialogue is minimal and the simplistic story is easy to follow.

Bottom line, UNIVERSITY is boring. As boring as a ten-minute short could possibly be (perhaps if the filmmakers didn't wait until the six-minute mark to bring out the zombies it wouldn't have been so bad). Granted, the zombies' introduction was pretty well done, and almost generated the right amount of thrills, but . . . what's up with the living dead? They're not quite fast zombies, yet they don't shuffle. They kind of look like someone racing to the toilet after a long night of Corona and cheap tacos.

Getting back to the tedium, mundane action is given far too much screen time. If you or I were trapped in a public restroom, or stuck without cell phone service, we'd try to remedy the situation for more than a few seconds. But, if we were characters in a movie--especially one ten friggin' minutes long--we'd do it just long enough to establish we're stuck in the john with no bars on our phone, okay?

So UNIVERSITY ends like every other cheap student short: heroine runs from the zombies a while before falling victim. Sheesh, not exactly an M. Night Shamalyan twist, is it? It's kinda well-executed, though not well enough to overlook the "they got me and now I'm one of them!" closing.

Oh, and the zombie plumber-crack at 9:43 was totally unwarranted.

DAY 328--DAYS OF DARKNESS

2008-10-07T18:36:00.002-04:00

Writer/director Jake Kennedy's 2007 shot-on-video opus DAYS OF DARKNESS has popped up in several conversations since 365 Days of the Dead began; I've heard, "Hey, check that one out, it's not your typical zombie flick," as often as I've gotten, "Dude, don't waste your time, it sucks!" Since divisive movies intrigue me, I decided to see for myself, and although the movie is definitely a mixed bag, it is certainly not your typical zombie flick.

It starts out as one, as a passing comet covers the earth in a toxic dust that turns people into zombies, forcing survivors to seek shelter at an abandoned microwave station. Kennedy seems none too interested in doing something different with the living dead--at least not at first--but manages to establish a good build-up with just enough characterization and well-timed action. Yet just when you think the film will remain a mere Romero pastiche, it starts to veer into strange new directions.

I won't go into too much detail, since these variations are what makes DAYS OF DARKNESS worth checking out, but I will say I can't think of very many movies that feature zombified genitalia. (There's even a quite memorable "crotch exam" sequence.) The plot twists get steadily loopier, leading to one helluva "Eureka!" moment as the main character figures out just what's going on, but I gotta give props to Kennedy for audacity, even if his execution leaves something to be desired.

Kennedy tries to assemble a more outre roster of characters--such as the former porn star who uses her extensive anal experience to explain why she can't kill zombies--but too often they come off as gimmicky and unintentionally humorous (I still don't know if this was supposed to be a comedy or not), and they still resort to the same pointless bickering that can be found in any post-apocalypse zombie film. (Though there are quite a few novel character types, I really could've done without the queer-bashing fanatical preacher.)

DAYS OF DARKNESS is in many ways like a lot of micro-budget films--boasting lame CGI effects that instill little confidence in the audience--but it's what it does differently that gives it that edge (Kennedy even throws in a happy ending--awww.) Not to be confused with great cinema, it at least offers something different than the usual Romero-esque gut-munching.

DAY 327--WICKED LITTLE THINGS

2008-10-06T16:34:00.002-04:00

WICKED LITTLE THINGS was among the initial batch of After Dark's Horrorfest productions, and generally considered the worst of the lot. Having not seen all of the entries I'll reserve judgment, but I will say this 2006 film is the cinematic equivalent of an '80s horror paperback--all that's missing is the Zebra logo on the DVD sleeve. Derivative and trite, it hits all the prerequisite horror bases, director J.S. Cardone doling out the cliches with clockwork timing.

Sort of a combination ghost/zombie tale (a variation I've been noticing a lot lately), WICKED LITTLE THINGS concerns a single mother and her two daughters moving into a ramshackle house in the Pennsylvania mountains following her husband's death. The house, they'll come to discover, is located near an abandoned mine, where several child-workers were buried alive in a long-ago accident. And with the developments of a local real estate baron--a sinister, greedy real estate baron, as if there were no other kind--tearing up the nearby earth it isn't long before the spirits/undead bodies of (the film never makes it clear which) are out and about, feeding messily on secondary characters.

The film is steeped in rustic atmosphere, making a good setting for a ghost yarn, but the screenplay is too riddled with well-worn tropes; it's the kind of movie where the local handyman is a convenient source of exposition, as if the ability to identify people in old photographs and relate dormant legends are part of a plumber's job description. It also asks us to be divinely patient with the older daughter--as always an unrelenting bitch--as if we're suddenly going to care and be so happy once she finally settles down after her encounter with the supernatural. (Um, how about she gets eaten by zombie moppets in the first reel and save us all some misery?) Of course, the younger daughter is friendly with the ghost-zombie kids, and helps them back to the other side--you know how this is going to end before it even begins.

A few familiar faces pop up in the cast, including HALLOWEEN's Scout Taylor-Compton and veteran character actor Geoffrey Lewis . . . but who did Ben Cross piss off to get stuck in this mess? He should bring a little class to the picture, hut his overwrought performance drags him down with the others.

If Dickensian-looking zombie kids give you nightmares, by all means watch this one with the lights out. If you're a little more hardened to the conventions of the genre, you've already seen this movie before, why repeat yourself?

DAY 326--MOTOCROSS ZOMBIES FROM HELL

2008-10-06T01:49:00.002-04:00

Waaaaay back in the early weeks of this project (i.e. I'm too lazy to scroll back and figure out exactly when) I skewered a rotten piece of shot-on-video tripe called ZOMBIES GONE WILD. Look it up, if you haven't read it, it's one of the most virulent reviews I've ever written, and was it ever deserved; almost at the end of this blog it's still one of the worst movies I've ever seen, zombie or otherwise.

I mention this only because the Cohen Brothers (yes, you read that correctly) have returned with another shot-on-tape zombie flick called MOTOCROSS ZOMBIES FROM HELL, and while this 2007 production is better than WILD it's far from watchable. Director "G.R.", whoever he may be, learned a thing or two about the technical aspects of film-making since making WILD; maybe in 2010 he'll be able to tell a decent story.

MOTOCROSS is about, duh, a motocross racer, his mechanic/best pal, and their feisty gal pal (there's actually a love triangle introduced at the beginning, as the girl switches affections from one to the other, a "conflict" that smooths over remarkably well) who head out to the desert for an important weekend race. Unbeknownst to them, an unbeatable team is gearing up for the race as well, a team invincible because they're zombies (from hell--remember the title?). It's going to be a long weekend as our heroes must race not for a title or trophy, but their very souls. (Sorry about the overwrought description, it's very late and I'm typing like a madman.)

MOTOCROSS almost plays like a two-wheeled version of DUEL, as the zombie racers remain hidden behind helmets throughout their chase, though it certainly lacks the tension or craftsmanship of Spielberg's film. The desert pursuit eventually gives way to yet another NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD-inspired trapped-in-a-house finale, ruining the one thing that set this turkey apart.

The film's shot competently enough, although it's got the production values of a local car-dealership commercial that give it an unusually fake-looking veneer. The acting's not too bad, but the screenplay is saddled with "realistic" dialogue that stops the movie cold. (Dialogue in a film does not need to sound exactly like genuine conversation to be realistic; it's a plot device, so when one character conveys information to another, we don't need them to repeat to anyone else.) Further bogging down the picture are overly-strained conversations and far too much attention devoted to motocross minutiae (though racing enthusiasts might not mind), and the horror elements are too cheesy to be scary.

Like a lot of SOV flicks, MOTOCROSS ZOMBIES FROM HELL remains ignorant on the maintenance of suspense or plot-momentum, though it spares us a showcase for the filmmakers' egos. Perhaps beneficial to would-be directors as an example of what not to do, it's a lame-brained bore that's as dry and boring as the landscape it's set in.

DAY 325--DAY OF THE DEAD (2008)

2008-10-06T00:58:00.002-04:00

When Zack Snyder's remake of DAWN OF THE DEAD proved to be a hit (not to mention a pretty good movie), nobody was too surprised to find that DAY OF THE DEAD was getting the redux treatment as well. Nobody was too excited either, especially when uber-hack Steve Miner (known for fair-to-middling genre fare like LAKE PLACID and HALLOWEEN: H20) was announced as director, but Hollywood has a tendency to carry on despite the outcry of fans. We just have to suck it up and pray it's not too disastrous.

The verdict? Thanks to the lowest expectations imaginable, it wasn't too heinous, yet the 2008 incarnation still manages to stumble over itself once the living dead start popping up (this film should settle the fast-vs.-slow zombie debate once and for all). It's at least better than DAY OF THE DEAD 2: CONTAGIUM, though a shattered testicle would be preferable to that cinematic atrocity.

Opting to remain an in-name-only remake, Miner's DAY centers on a tiny Colorado town hit by a zombie epidemic, and the paramilitary squad that leads the quarantine. Ultimately it leads to two parallel trapped-in-a-box scenarios as the various survivors (which include Mr. Mariah Carey Nick Cannon, scream queen Christa Campbell, and a what-the-hell's-she-doing-here star turn from Mena Suvari) try to keep the plague from spreading. Thanks to Miner's not-bad-but-not-great directorial hand it's actually fairly entertaining, but a reliance of hyper-fast zombies (exactly why/how do they crawl spider-like on the ceiling?) and BOURNE-inspired hand-held camerawork keeps it well within the bounds of mediocrity.

There are a couple of novel touches (such as zombies who continue to feed on a body stuck in an electrified fence) and Ving Rhames, in a bullshit ploy to establish continuity to Snyder's DAWN, elevates the proceedings with his extended cameo (yes, he is the best thing about this movie). The plethora of gore should please grue fans, though I really would like to see less CGI splatter--I realize it's cost-effective, but it looks like shit and leaves me cold. Suvari makes for a surprisingly capable action babe, though she's the only actor, aside from Rhames, who imbues any sense of humanity to their character, and even then it's strictly the B-movie bare minimum. I could at least tolerate the human members of the cast; I can't same for the vegetarian zombie "Bud" (puh-leeze!), who I found pretty goddamn stupid.

It doesn't make a lick of sense, but the 2008 DAY OF THE DEAD fares better than most of recent zombie films/horror retreads. Hampered with heavy exposition and wrong-headed action that sinks its third act, as well as a stupid ending, it'll never be mistaken for a genre classic. The highly undiscriminating or very merciful might find this works in a pinch; it helps not to think of this as anything remotely related to Romero.

DAY 324--ENTER . . . ZOMBIE KING

2008-10-06T00:23:00.002-04:00

I'll be perfectly honest with you, I can't tell if ENTER . . . ZOMBIE KING (also known as ZOMBIE BEACH PARTY) is a good movie or not, but I do know that it's a helluva fun little flick. Unlike most micro-budget productions, which try to make the best out of limited resources, ZOMBIE KING uses its financial restrictions to create its own cut-rate style, an aura of retro-kitsch cool that in of itself is worth the price of admission.

Packing an awful lot into 76 minutes, ENTER . . . ZOMBIE KING is somewhat difficult to summarize, but imagine the classic lucha libre films of the '60s mashed into the living dead universe of George Romero (who, incidentally, was originally slated to play the titular king) and you're on the right track. Mexican wrestling superstar and part-time crime-fighter Ulysses (Jules Delorme) sets out to investigate an outbreak of zombies in a sleepy beach community--which inexplicably is experiencing heavy snowfall--suspecting his old cohort Tiki (El Fuego) is behind it, as the latter's been on the wrasslin' circuit with a zombie-grappling act. (And this is only the A-story, folks.) But as Ulysses and his fellow do-gooders Mercedes and the Blue Saint (Jennifer Thom and Raymond Carle) delve deeper, they find the mastermind is much more than a fellow wrestler.

ZOMBIE KING has its share of flaws, such as plot that likes to meander at its own pace and predilection for redundant dialogue, but director Bill Marks compensates with a rollicking second act that features plenty of zombie-wrestling, the quest for justice and revenge, and a bevy of pin-up worthy females, all backed with a groovy surf-rock soundtrack. As I said earlier, the low budget forces concessions upon the filmmakers--such as the climactic battle fought in a local playground--but this adds to the movie's lunacy, giving it a singular feel that will enamor bad-movie fans everywhere. (This is one of those rare examples that capture the spirit of Ed Wood beautifully without getting mired in intentional idiocy.)

ENTER . . . ZOMBIE KING will probably turn away as many viewers as it turns on, but I had a damned good time and I won't hesitate to recommend it. The perfect centerpiece to your retro-themed Halloween party. (Oh, and I can't wait for the sequel, THE CURSE OF THE IRON MASK.)

DAY 323--FIEND

2008-10-04T16:53:00.002-04:00

In the days before home video there were several filmmakers who were essentially regional moguls, folks like Charles B. Pierce, Earl Owensby and Worth Keeter, or today's director, Don Dohler, who financed, produced, and distributed motion pictures far from the Hollywood system. With the internet age and the ease of acquiring decent home-video equipment (not to mention studios like Lionsgate, who'll dump any amateur production on DVD regardless of competence), I'm surprised there aren't more of them today; maybe there are, and are simply toiling in obscurity, justified or otherwise.

Dohler, a Maryland-based filmmaker, made no-budget pictures until his death in 2006, but he's best known for his horror/sci-fi offerings of the early '80s. FIEND was only his second picture, and boy does it show. Though the 1980 production possesses the same low-rent charm that graced (if that's the word) similar early works by Fred Olen Ray and Larry Buchanan, its mind-bogglingly inept story ruins any chance of a fun, horrific romp.

The story gets underway when a shoddy optical effect--really, what the hell is that supposed to be? It looks like a large, disembodied eyeball--resurrects a corpse in a local cemetery, turning him into a lumbering zombie with glowing red hands. (Yeah, I know Dohler couldn't have afforded Industrial Light and Magic, but at least the poor photographic effects give it a fleeting bad-movie energy.) Now, this could've been a good starting point for a movie, even one as financially-challenged as this one, but Dohler allows too many questions to pop up.

Like, who is this guy, and what is he really supposed to be? What is he after, and how does killing innocent women help accomplish his goal? And most importantly, how does a reanimated corpse buy a house and establish a music school?

I suppose with the right verve and tempo a film could make me forget those questions, but FIEND doesn't have it. A crashing bore of a picture, it spends more time with the dead guy poring over sales records with his lackey or grooving to New Age tunes than . . . whatever it is undead music teachers do. Seriously, Dohler films this guy feeding his cat with the same intensity as the murders.

Now that I've written this review, I think I know why there aren't that many regional producers anymore.

DAY 322--HOOD OF THE LIVING DEAD

2008-10-04T16:10:00.002-04:00

This 2004 micro-budget production might've been worth checking out if it made a genuine attempt to bring the horrors of the living dead into an inner-city environment; using zombies as a metaphor for, say, the drug epidemic or the hopelessness many of its residents feel would've been a rich vein to tap, even with the atrocious acting and horrendous shot-on-video quality.

But directors Jose and Eduardo Quiroz decided instead to make RE-ANIMATOR IN THA HOOD, even throwing in the well-known Day-Glo green serum, and gladly trot out every ghetto stereotype imaginable. (That the filmmakers are minorities made me wonder why they didn't at least try to balance them out with three-dimensional characters.) The end result, which boasts "zombies" consisting of extras with mouthfuls of red dye, is too ridiculous to be taken seriously, much less be scary.

DAY 321--BOY EATS GIRL

2008-10-04T15:40:00.002-04:00

Keeping your minds out of the gutter for a second--and I know just how tough that can be sometimes--the title for this 2005 Irish production suggests not just an undead romantic comedy, but a fairly outrageous one at that. Maybe something on the level of Peter Jackson's BRAINDEAD, or Naoyuki Tomomatsu's STACY? That was the impression I got, which might explain why I was so disappointed in BOY EATS GIRL.

It wasn't because director Stephen Bradley didn't go over the top, but that he didn't bother to break any new ground. Practically every facet of this film has been taken directly from other movies, borrowing so heavily on teen-hijinx flicks and well-worn zombie classics that when it does offer something novel (such as zombie-slaughter-via-backhoe) it fails to generate much enthusiasm. It mirrors its influences the same way NIGHT OF THE LIVING DORKS did, so much so that I'm having trouble telling the two apart.

BOY EATS GIRL hews so close to the teen-zombie formula (and I hadn't realized there was one until now) that you can predict each scene right before it happens: our newly-zombified heroes experience hunger pangs that can't be sated until--oh, no!--they dine on human flesh, there's the obligatory scene in which characters discover they have no vital signs, etc. Had Bradley injected any genuine humor into these tired proceedings it might've made them more interesting, but instead lets the acute familiarity grind the film to a halt. And I might not go so far as to call the picture an idiot plot, but it relies enough on simple misunderstandings to come pretty damn close.

There are too many zombie comedies out there that do more to make BOY EATS GIRL worth your time. Although its solid, photogenic cast does what they can with the material, it's too weak to compete with SHAUN OF THE DEAD, etc.

DAY 320--DEAD AND BURIED

2008-10-03T23:16:00.002-04:00

I believe I'll be keeping this one short, since 1981's DEAD AND BURIED is one of those movies that holds more impact the less you know going in. Written by Ronald Shusett and Dan O'Bannon (the pair's first major gig after their breakthrough success with ALIEN) and directed by the criminally underappreciated Gary A. Sherman, it's a film that works best as a mystery, revealing its secrets one layer at a time until the full picture is shown.

Watching just the opening scene is a treat; not only is it a beautifully understated work of misdirection--what appears to be the beginning of a romance segues without warning into a particularly nasty murder--but it's the kind of slow build that rarely gets made these days.

DEAD AND BURIED also boasts a strong cast, including James Farentino (who seems to be channeling Christopher George), Michael Pataki, Jack Albertson, and Robert Englund in a pre-Freddy turn. Their work, along with superior cinematography and an effective score, make this a worthwhile example of fun '80s horror (that didn't involve knife-wielding maniacs).

I will say, though, that I'm not 100% sold on the story's resolution, but getting there is an enjoyably macabre ride.

DAY 319--AWAKEN THE DEAD

2008-10-01T18:38:00.002-04:00

Casual movie-goers, be it those who don't watch many movies or whose tastes run closer to the local multiplex or Blockbuster outlet, will often gripe about film critics. "They don't like anything," they'll say, as if finding fault with GOOD LUCK CHUCK or TRANSFORMERS is some kind of profound character flaw. They're snobs, they say, interested only in subtitled arthouse flicks and not "real" movies.

Know why critics are so cranky and hard to please? Because they watch movies a lot, and by doing so encounter cliches and mediocrity more times than they'd probably like. And when you're watching films not for leisure but as part of your job (or a project such as this one), it becomes difficult to tolerate stories and plot elements that are weak and trite. Familiarity most certainly breeds contempt when it comes to watching movies.

Take for example the 2007 shot-on-video production AWAKEN THE DEAD. Were I to throw this on during a slow night to pass the time I might've been able to wring a little enjoyment from it, but having suffered through this very same movie time and again over the last eleven months I found myself rather antagonistic.

Amidst the same ol' virus-generated zombie wasteland a prostitute and a preacher-turned-assassin team up to survive. And within this well-trod territory writer/director Jeffrey McMichael Brookshire takes us on a journey we've been on before, revisiting every familiar stop like a veteran tour guide. It's the kind of film that inspires boredom from the very beginning, when it becomes apparent we're getting nothing new. I'm as tired of man-of-the-cloth anti-heroes as I am of those two-fisted action sequences that work in Honk Kong films but look ridiculous in DIY flicks like these. Nor is the single-set story any help, creating an atmosphere that's claustrophobic in all the wrong ways.

The story's not the only moldy-oldie on display, either. Think of any technical flaw found in micro-budget cinema and it's bound to be in this movie. We've got terrible acting, pedestrian direction, and grainy, cheap-looking videography, not to mention the ever-reliable shitty audio. (Note to no-budget filmmakers: if you're going to tell your story mostly through dialogue--and God knows most of you will--make sure you film said dialogue so that it's audible.) All this, and Brookshire even resolves his tale with a simplistic, pat ending loaded with cheesy symbolism.

Pass on this one, even if you're not weary of cheap zombie flicks.

DAY 318--ROUTE 666

2008-09-29T18:05:00.003-04:00

I was kind of surprised by this 2001 offering from director William Wesley, expecting it to be the same brain-frying, derivative idiocy that usually lurks on video store shelves. Don't get me wrong, we're not talking THE SEVEN SAMURAI here, but ROUTE 666 is the kind of horror film that's becoming increasingly rare: admittedly lightweight, allowing you more time to contemplate another bowl of popcorn than its plot, but provides enough twists to keep it consistently entertaining.

Wesley, who also directed the little-seen 1988 shocker SCARECROWS, spins a tight, action-oriented horror yarn: Lou Diamond Phillips and Lori Petty play a pair of U.S. Marshals sent escort a mob informant on the run (THE X FILES's Steven Williams) back to California for his testimony; when gun-toting thugs show up to take Williams out of the picture, the three leads--along with a second carload of victims, er, Marshals led by PET SEMATARY's Dale Midkiff--take off down a deserted stretch of desert road in order to elude them. Of course, if you've been paying attention to the title, you know that bad things lie in wait for them, literally in the road.

ROUTE 666 wastes little time getting the action started, and pauses only to flesh out his characters a bit or build upon its backstory, though a great deal of the action feels like a poor man's John Woo and doesn't work as well as it should. But when it gets all cylinders firing it plays very much in the '80s buddy-action mold (imagine if Romero had directed 48 HRS.), with nice sense of momentum and plenty of back-and-forth banter between the cast. It's pulpy, to be sure, but it still delivers the goods.

Nobody here offers an Oscar-caliber performance, though Phillips and Petty (who've fallen a bit from more high-profiled fare) refuse to phone it in. In fact, it's the fairly well-rounded characterization that makes it better than average; yes, Phillips's past fits into the storyline a little too conveniently and sets up a sappier-than-needed ending, but it's sure beats listening to them talk about their favorite G.I. Joe characters.

Wesley tosses in a couple of novel conceits, such as restricting his undead to asphalt surfaces, and even finds twists in the newer material. Not exactly a gorefest, but enough red stuff gets spilled to satisfy the grue brigade. ROUTE 666 was a good time, and a pleasant diversion from my recent shot-on-video stagnation.

DAY 317--CHOPPER CHICKS IN ZOMBIETOWN

2008-09-20T20:15:00.003-04:00

Anyone trolling video shelves or surfing late-night cable in the early '90s no doubt stumbled across this memorably-titled Troma pick-up. Promoted at the time as featuring a glorified cameo by MTV VJ Martha Quinn, 1991's CHOPPER CHICKS IN ZOMBIETOWN has since become better known as one of Billy Bob Thornton's rent-paying gigs before his SLING BLADE breakout.

Like a lot of straight-to-tape horror flicks from that era, CHOPPER CHICKS is fairly enjoyable with the right frame of mind (or blood-alcohol level), but does little to satisfy beyond the slight requirements of a party tape. Director Dan Hoskins seems to be striving for more than just an undead quickie, but his handling of both the comedic and horrific elements sabotages his ambitions. The humor is ham-fisted and clumsy, and his makes the deadly mistake of playing the zombies for laughs (always a bad sign, and their accompanying music is so irritatingly moronic it makes their minimal presence almost unwatchable). Hoskins also has some serious pacing issues, letting his story get bogged down in domestic melodrama when it should be doling out zombies.

Aside from a couple of hammy performances by character actors Don Calfa and Earl Boen, the acting isn't too terrible, given the material, and a surprising number of the actors on hand have gone on to respectable, if not high-profile, careers. Quinn's slide into pop culture obscurity has rendered her blip of an appearance even more miniscule (honestly, I had trouble picking her out after all these years), but it's Thornton that most people will be curious to see. Shortly before getting trapped in his rednecks-n-retards pigeonhole, he comes off in CHOPPER CHICKS a little like Kevin Costner in his prime, albeit more low-key and kinda dorky.

Though technically competent, it's still inarguably a stupid and juvenile picture and should be approached with caution. I can't say if the younger generation of horror fans would even get a derisive laugh out of it (it seems somehow best appreciated, if that's the word, strictly by us Gen-Xers), but it'll do to pass a slow liquor-fueled night.

DAY 316--I RAN FROM A ZOMBIE

2008-09-20T19:43:00.002-04:00

Can it be true? A fan-oriented, student-made zombie comedy that doesn't have me reaching for the nearest bottle of cyanide capsules? Yes, I'm happy to say one exists, and it's called I RAN FROM A ZOMBIE, a 2008 short from writer/director Matthew Hatchard.

While it's not terribly original, borrowing heavily from the established cannon of undead classics--especially SHAUN OF THE DEAD--it sets itself apart by being genuinely funny. You won't be in any danger of gut-busting or side-splitting, but this what-if scenario in which a trio of pub-dwelling blokes discuss what they'd do in a zombie outbreak will get a few honest-to-Romero chuckles out of you. It's one of the few non-professional shorts I've encountered that successfully understands the use of repetition in humor, the actors are likable and charming, and many of the jokes are still funny even when the punchlines are telegraphed. Even its ending, which is nothing new, serves to sharpen the short's edge and close on a resounding note.

Undoubtedly the product of a fan's appreciation, I RAN FROM A ZOMBIE echoes its inspirations without coming off as geeky. There's even the novelty of the use of a historic fort that rises it above most home-bound productions.

A pleasant surprise, and I can't wait to see what Hatchard and company come up with next.

DAY 315--DELLAMORTE DELLAMORE

2008-09-20T17:44:00.002-04:00

Better known stateside under the less poetic title CEMETERY MAN, Michele Soavi's 1994 release DELLAMORTE DELLAMORE not only stands as one of the best horror films of the 1990's (zombie or otherwise), but marks the end of the classic Italian zombie-film era. It's a fitting end note, a meditation of life and death, of unrequited love--the title itself translates to OF DEATH, OF LOVE--that works as both an entertaining zombie film and an expression of artistic beauty.

Rupert Everett, a few years before becoming known as Madonna's trophy gay buddy, stars as Francesco Dellamorte, a most unusual type of cemetery caretaker. Accompanied by his grunting, Curly Howard-lookalike sidekick Gnaghi, Dellamorte's duties include dispatching Returners, the flesh-hungry zombies that arise seven days after burial. Yet despite the frequent appearances of the living dead, Dellamorte's job is still a grind, a routine so all-consuming that, much like Dante and Randall in CLERKS, he finds his life passing him by. But things change when he meets a beautiful young widow (the stunning Anna Falchi).

Soavi mentored under Dario Argento, and as an actor worked with Lucio Fulci; their influence is unmistakable in DELLAMORTE DELLAMORE, as are those of Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock (there are glaring homages to CITIZEN KANE and VERTIGO, and the ending recalls the reality-bending denouement of THE BEYOND). Although it works well enough as a zombie movie, with plentiful helpings of gore and a healthy sense of gallows humor, Soavi's stylistic and thematic underpinnings elevate the film beyond a Peter Jackson-esque splat-stick.

Many of you have noticed I'm relatively quiet when it comes to good or classic films, and usually it's because those movies (say, THE EVIL DEAD or DAWN OF THE DEAD) are so well-known that a detailed analysis would most likely be redundant. I'm also hesitant to extol a movie to much, lest the movie get lost under a sea of hyperbole, and I'd rather just tell you, See this movie, it's really good and you'll like it. That probably makes me a poor film reviewer, but so be it.

I'm taking the same approach to DELLAMORTE DELLAMORE. Take a look if you haven't, and be sure to pay careful attention to that just below the surface. It's a beautiful, rewarding experience you won't regret.

DAY 314--GHOST LAKE

2008-09-15T15:01:00.002-04:00

The near two-hour running time for GHOST LAKE, director Jay Woelfel's 2004 shot-on-video feature, told me the movie was going to be rough going even before I watched a single frame. As I've learned from previous films--and what a painful lesson it was--DIY filmmakers rarely have the breadth or scope requiring an excessive length. Usually it means they lack an understanding of pacing or script economy; GHOST LAKE is no exception.

The movie, a potentially interesting marriage of the living dead and traditional ghost stories, reveals its amateurishness by saddling its very first scene with an inordinate number of flashbacks. It's an egregious misstep that kills any confidence one has in Woelfel's storytelling abilities; if a director doesn't understand the dangers of an exposition dump at a time when he should be hooking the audience, how will he handle the further development of his plot? As GHOST LAKE progresses, it justifies that fear.

That's not to say Woelfel's made a complete bomb; he makes effective use of a bucolic rustic setting, his film's solid on a technical level (though I could've done without the pointless use of split-screen), and he's got the makings of a good ghost yarn. But the mistakes he makes sabotages GHOST LAKE into becoming a cobbling of could've-beens. His choice of heroine is glaringly inappropriate, and not simply because she's a rather weak actress (all the performances are a bit undercooked across the board); she's supposedly haunted by a selfish error of judgment--she could've prevented her parents' death if she hadn't been hooking up in the backseat of a car--which makes her obligatory romantic subplot icky and more than a little cold. And though he mostly handles the spectral aspects of his story well, maintaining a suitably Gothic atmosphere, Woelfel blows it whenever he has the dead rising from the titular body of water to claim their victims, sequences that resemble a ZOMBIE LAKE remake.

It's this kind of creative inconsistency that makes micro-budget cinema so frustrating. Woelfel almost delivers a striking climax with an undead uprising, but fumbles by giving his zombies distorted electronic voices and tacking on a syrupy ending.

Fans of quiet supernatural horror may take to this more than zombie fans, given its less than visceral approach, but even they might be turned off by GHOST LAKE's late emphasis of walking corpses over spirits. Though displaying a few flashes of competence, it suffers too much under the weight of its considerable flaws.

DAY 313--THE MAN THEY COULD NOT HANG

2008-09-09T18:03:00.002-04:00

Boris Karloff starred in a number of mad scientist programmers concerning the resurrection of the dead, and the 1939 example THE MAN THEY COULD NOT HANG is no better or worse than any of them. It is what it is, a studio B picture that straddles the mystery and horror genres, buoyed by the lead performance of a name actor.

Karloff stars as a doctor working on an experimental mechanical heart, which he believes will help prolong life. With an unusually game lab assistant, who volunteers to be put to death in order to test the heart, Karloff finds himself facing a murder rap when his nurse interrupts the procedure and causes the assistant to die before the heart can be fitted. (I don't know what medical protocol was like during the '30s, but Karloff could've saved himself a world of trouble if he'd gotten his lackey's consent in writing.)

Dismissed as a murderer and not the visionary groundbreaker that he sees himself, Karloff is sent to the gallows by a typically closed-minded jury. But thanks to the help of a colleague, who uses the prototype heart to bring him from the dead, Karloff will be able to settle the score.

The biggest problem with HANG is that it's all build-up with little pay-off; Karloff doesn't even see the noose until past the mid-point, and even then it's conveyed as a series of news headlines. Once Karloff begins his revenge we're told six jurors have been found hanged, but all of this potentially interesting material is transmitted secondhand. (It doesn't help that director Nick Grinde presents the film as visually unremarkable as possible, keeping the production half a notch above the average Poverty Row potboiler.)

What the film chooses to dramatize is the remaining members of Karloff's trial being called to his mansion for the culmination of his revenge. It's supposed to feel like an Agatha Christie mystery, but the action is too awkwardly staged and more than a little silly, not to mention incredulous. Karloff's vengeance lacks bite, and the drawing-room antics are over before they gather any momentum (topped with a schmaltzy ending that probably had 'em groaning back in '39).

Though I'm glad vintage horror films are getting a new audience on DVD, it's a shame that lesser movies like this one are getting released over more accomplished fare like THE WALKING DEAD (a much better living dead/mad scientist movie from 1936 also featuring Karloff). Too tame to entertain horror fans, and too straightforward for mystery audiences, it occupies a strange middle ground that will please only Karloff aficionados or undiscriminating fans of classic cinema.

DAY 312--AUTOMATON TRANSFUSION

2008-09-09T17:22:00.002-04:00

When George Romero's DAWN OF THE DEAD became an international success it quickly became one of the most imitated films of its time, copied by filmmakers the world over (in fact, most of the fun of watching something like, say, HELL OF THE LIVING DEAD is seeing how shamelessly it "borrows" from DAWN). Now, as the new millennium brings us a new DAWN OF THE DEAD it also brings us a new barrage of DAWN rip-offs; and if director Stephen C. Miller's 2008 offering AUTOMATON TRANSFUSION is any indication, the movies replicating Zack Snyder's film won't be quite as entertaining.

Shot on digital video, TRANSFUSION plays like a student film that inexplicably got picked up by Dimension's Extreme label. Derivative and hollow, it's primary concern is superficial gore and nominal thrills--a dumbed-down, splattery redux of Snyder's DAWN, moving the action from the mall to a college keg party--and even with such lowly goals it fails. Miller sticks with the fast zombies and rapid-fire editing, though in keeping with Snyder's style his end result is washed-out and cheap-looking, belying its amateur origins.

And while the film's visuals are lacking, they've got nothing on TRANSFUSION's screenplay, which trots out cliches from both zombie and teen films without a care for their staleness. Populated with stock characters you either want to see die or could care less if they do, it's a falsely kinetic slog through 75 minutes' worth of commonplace tropes, capped with a climax that consists of tired, trite exposition (and a return to the ol' undead super-soldier concept--you guys will never learn, will you?).

Oh, and if AUTOMATON TRANSFUSION wasn't punishing enough, it ends on a bullshit cliffhanger complete with a "To be continued . . ." title card. Yeah, I'll be waiting with bated breath for that one.

DAY 311--ZOMBIE NIGHT

2008-09-09T16:05:00.002-04:00

Something I'll never understand about certain filmmakers--be it a high-profiled director like Rob Zombie, or any of the myriad do-it-yourselfers toiling in the straight-to-DVD market--is their tendency to completely emulate their favorite movies. I'm not even talking about the Tarantino-esque method of mashing disparate elements into a singular whole, but walking an audience from Point A to Point B through films that already exist.

I loved DAWN OF THE DEAD. When I want to share my enthusiasm for it I invite some friends over, order a pizza, and watch the movie. But apparently for micro-budget filmmakers (and to be fair, a lot of higher-scale "professional" producers are guilty of this, too) when they want to espouse a particular film they must recreate it with amateur casts and crews, overlooking the inspired creative spark that drove their beloved picture in the first place.

Director David J. Francis loves zombie films. It's obvious from the very first frame that he's just as fond of Romeroesque end-of-the-world scenarios as the rest of us. But while his 2003 shot-on-video feature ZOMBIE NIGHT conveys that affection, it is absolutely no different than any dozen zombie movies made in the last twenty years.

Folks, there isn't a single solitary thing in this movie that is fresh or original. Even if you've never heard of it, you've seen it: survivors of an abrupt zombie epidemic hole up and alternately bicker with each other and fend off the approaching undead; there's even a Ken Foree stand-in. And though I've said the same thing about other movies before, with ZOMBIE NIGHT it's especially troubling because Franics shows a glimmer--not a lot, but it's there--of talent.

ZOMBIE NIGHT is competently filmed and edited, with a non-professional cast that turns in tolerable performances and decent, if unexceptional, gore. Yet it hews so closely to the apocalyptic-zombie formula that any enjoyment is nil. Francis tends to write fairly generic dialogue, the kind of time-killing banter these DIY productions thrive on, but he seems like an a respectable enough screenwriter. I'm sure with the right encouragement, and the proper ambition, he could've turned out something that wasn't the 1473rd variation of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD.

Francis made a follow-up in 2006 called AWAKENING, which I'll probably pass on. Nothing in ZOMBIE NIGHT cried out for further exploration, nor do I have any faith it will break new ground. As love-letters to the genre go, I've seen far, far worse, but it's nonetheless too undistinguished and derivative to be worth your time.

DAY 310--JOHNNY SUNSHINE

2008-09-07T16:11:00.003-04:00

If you've ever found yourself watching bondage porn and thought, This would be better if there were zombies being killed , then the 2008 film JOHNNY SUNSHINE might be just the thing for you. On the other hand, if coherent storytelling is more your speed you'll probably be better off checking elsewhere.

In a "bizzare" future rampant with "necropheliacs" (apparently bad spelling is an aftereffect of the zombie apocalypse) porn star Johnny Sunshine supplements her income as a zombie-killer for hire. And while her violent part-time activities heightens her hardcore profile, to the pleasure of producer Max Maximum, she soon finds herself as part of conspiracy hellbent on starring her in the snuff film to end all snuff films.

The most surprising thing about JOHNNY SUNSHINE is, despite being released by Brain Dead Entertainment, isn't an astonishingly bad pile of goat droppings. Unlike most of the tripe that gets foisted onto the public under this label, it actually has a fair amount of low-fi style. Director Matt Yeager gives SUNSHINE a distinct look, almost like a graphic novel come to life, proving that a paltry budget can still allow a little flair.

But the trade-off (and I've come to find there's always a trade-off when it comes to stylish micro-budgeted films) is SUNSHINE's inert plot. The story never feels as if it's progressing, hampered by an incessant and unnecessary voice-over that directly states what should be conveyed naturally through dialogue. Fetish fans may appreciate the leather-bound trappings, but most viewers will be left bored, wondering why an interesting concept like the zombie porn industry is left unexplored.

Performances are what you'd expect, though actress Shey Bland lives up to her name as the titular character. While I always appreciate a take-charge heroine, Johnny Sunshine's tough exterior is simply eye candy, a substanceless veneer that exists solely for male enjoyment.

As much as I didn't care for JOHNNY SUNSHINE, I really hope this marks a change in Brain Dead's acquisition habits (we've seen more than enough run-from-the-zombies backyard flicks to last a lifetime). It's not a good film, but at least it's a step in the right direction.

DAY 309--NIGHT OF THE COMET

2008-09-05T20:21:00.003-04:00

Director Thom Eberhart's NIGHT OF THE COMET had somehow eluded me in the years following its 1984 release, despite earning a decent cult reputation due to heavy rotation on late night cable. Having finally caught up with it I can't say I'd been missing much.

COMET is certainly quirky enough to garner an underground following, juggling elements of science fiction, comedy, and horror and drawing inspiration from everything from post-nuke films to George Romero. Even it's premise, in which a passing comet reduces the world's population to piles of red dust, rampaging zombie mutants, and a handful of survivors, sounds like a can't-miss. But it's what it does with these elements--or rather, what it fails to do--that kept me from getting sucked into its story.

Perhaps it was because of budgetary restraints, but Eberhart doesn't do much with his end-of-the-world scenario. The zombie-like creatures, easily the most interesting aspect of the plot, are kept largely off-screen, used mostly for cheap shock effect when utilized at all. There's some humdrum involving a vaguely scientific group that includes Mary Woronov and Geoffrey Lewis that eats up an inordinate portion of the running time; it's bad enough the movie slams to a halt each time this subplot recurs, but the heart of the film's plot lies in this interminable material. And though the film tries to attempt some sort of commentary (and has plenty of material to work with, given the vapid SoCal leads), the best it can do is a feeble remark on consumerism set in a mall as the protagonists go on a shopping spree. Might this sound strangely familiar?

NIGHT OF THE COMET can't help but feel a bit dated, especially in the music and wardrobe departments, but this nostalgic quality kept it from being totally worthless. Catherine Mary Stewart and Kelli Maroney are an appealing pair, and not just for the obvious reasons, preventing the film from going completely under with energetic performances. Still, even their particular brands of effervescence can't save a movie that has all its best moments in half-assed dream sequences.

Best reserved for a case of '80's withdrawal.

DAY 308--ULTIMATE ZOMBIE OUTBREAK

2008-09-02T17:44:00.002-04:00

ULTIMATE ZOMBIE OUTBREAK, a 2007 short film that's so much like every other homemade zombie film previously written about here, I decided to review it in haiku.

slow Saturday night
cavorting backyard zombies
wasting precious tape

DAY 307--ORGY OF THE DEAD

2008-09-02T15:51:00.002-04:00

Softcore shenanigans from 1965, ORGY OF THE DEAD marked Edward D. Wood Jr.'s transition from low-budget sci-fi/horror to the less reputable realm of the smut trade. Directed by skin-flick baron A.C. Stephen, it's a harmless piece of fluff with enough monsters and bare breasts to entertain fans of all ages, a far cry from the less-amusing hardcore pics that defined the twilight of Wood's career.

Though Wood is relegated strictly to writing duties, adapting the screenplay from his eponymous novel (!), his stamp is all over this picture (the dialogue spoken in ORGY could have sprung only from Wood's typewriter). Opening with a Criswell introduction (who looks like he slugged half a bottle of cough syrup shortly before filming) that cribs from similar scenes in PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE and NIGHT OF THE GHOULS, it's consistent with Wood's particular brand of delirious ineptitude. I was waiting for Bela Lugosi to show up with a roll of dollar bills.

A hack horror writer and his girlfriend Shirley (played by William Bates and Pat Barrington, the latter of whom performs double duty as a dancer) stumble across the moonlit strip show being put on for Dracula-caped Criswell. Emceed by Vampira stand-in Fawn Silver, the show consists of a procession of "undead" exotic dancers come forth and jiggle their goods for Criswell (who plays some type of effeminate deity), who determines their eternal fate. If he's judging solely on talent, my guess is they're all damned to Hell.

Bad movie fans will undoubtedly get a kick out of ORGY's many shortcomings (the asinine conversations, the blatant day-for-night continuity errors), but even they will be put off by this somnambulant film. The Wolfman and the Mummy show up, serving mostly as window dressing for the main attraction, which is of course the succession of bare-chested ladies.

Now, I wasn't expecting SHOWGIRLS, but this has got to be the stupidest display of striptease ever captured on celluloid. Performed with a monumental dearth of skill, these numbers would be of interest only to those who've never seen a topless woman before (if I had to pick a winner, I'd say the girl hopping around in a ratty cat costume). Most "dances" are comprised of a few repetitive moves, and go on for far to long to be worth a glance; I'm sure the fast-forward button would be your friend.

ORGY OF THE DEAD, despite its cruddiness, will probably prove itself irresistable to bad-movie fanatics, but make sure you've got at least a gallon of your favorite alcoholic beverage on hand before partaking.

DAY 306--GAY ZOMBIES

2008-08-31T23:00:00.003-04:00

What. The. Fuck.

Not to be confused with the recent short film GAY ZOMBIE, or the reprehensible FLAMING GAY ZOMBIES I foisted upon you a few weeks ago, I came across this amateurish mess while searching for obscure films to review. Supposedly begun as a home movie in 1986 (which would explain the horrific "production values"--this thing's as aesthetically pleasing as an Argentinian snuff flick) by writer/director Mike O'Dea, and apparently not the same Mike O'Dea behind the film TOWNIES, GAY ZOMBIES was made intermittently over the last twelve years, never to be truly completed and dumped as a multi-part upload on YouTube (where I found it, and scavanged the above data).

So stupid and pointless it borders on the avant garde, it's the perfect vehicle for people who think Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer are unappreciated geniuses. And though it treats its gay zombies, who appear more like zombie mimes, with as much sensitivity as a frat hazing, it at least gives redneck assholes the same treatment. However, the only demographic it truly insults are the dumbasses who actually watch it.

Jesus Christ on a hand-cart, this is probably the worst-made "movies" I've seen for this blog (gotta love the scene where the rain smothers 98% of the audio), and that includes the stuff made by kids in their backyard; the only difference here is a plethora of F-bombs and some shadow-sodomy.

As much fun as drowning puppies.

DAY 305--NECROPOLIS AWAKENED

2008-08-31T18:17:00.003-04:00

This one was a pleasant surprise, referred to me by Mike Lombardo of Reel Splatter Productions as an example of high-concept filmmaking on a shoestring budget (and a frazzled shoestring, at that). NECROPOLIS AWAKENED is a 2002 shot-on-video feature from writer/director Garrett White that certainly wants to do more than the average DIY production, and while I found the end result lacking White definitely deserves an A for effort.

An action-oriented zombie film, NECROPOLIS concerns Nefarious Thorne, a goggle-wearing baddie with a mouthful of nasty teeth, and his plot to take over the small town of Skyhook. As the local population is steadily turned into zombies (not that big a task when the town has all of eight people) the last surviving human must fight to send the dead back into the ground.

The superior technical quality of this film is apparent right from the start, with top-notch photography and editing that's better than most micro-budget flicks. White even kick-starts the action with a car chase/crash that for once didn't have me bellowing with laughter, and maintains higher-scale set-pieces up to a rousing climax. Nor does the gore disappoint, featuring a face-removal by tire that ranks among the best no-budget effects in recent memory. That White was able to pull of a movie of this scope at all is pretty amazing, yet he managed this feat with a very small crew of friends and family and a cast of only five people. (The acting is particularly strong, especially considering most of the actors are playing multiple roles; the stand-out is easily Duke White, who plays sole survivor Bob and human villain Judas, turning in a hilariously deranged performance as the latter without edging into camp or parody.)

If NECROPOLIS AWAKENED has any problems, they lie in a rather shaky screenplay that constantly undermines White's technical savvy. While the dialogue isn't as clunky or tone-deaf as most indie films, many of the conversations are strained, and it often isn't clear what's going on. It also fails to find just the right pace, taking the time for small, quiet moments for its characters (which I don't mind) but never quite moving the story at the right tempo. It's never as engaging as it ought to be.

With a better script this could've been an under-the-radar classic, but despite being well-made it still doesn't cut it. Though I wouldn't give it more than a C+, I can't wait to see what White has up his sleeve next.

DAY 304--DAY OF THE DEAD 2: CONTAGIUM

2008-08-31T15:56:00.002-04:00

As 365 Days of the Dead draws closer to its Halloween end date, and a sea of interchangeable, unremarkable undead mediocrities surges forth in my direction, I find myself resisting the temptation to check out early. To phone the last two months in.

I won't, only because I appreciate those of you who read this blog too much, but when faced with something like the 2005 DVD-ready monstrosity DAY OF THE DEAD 2: CONTAGIUM, I gotta admit it's very appealing.

An in-name-only extension of Romero's zombie films, CONTAGIUM (you know you're in for a rough time when a movie's subtitle is a made-up word) bears as much resemblance to DAY OF THE DEAD as BRIDESHEAD REVISITED. Slapping together the weakest, most superficial elements from RESIDENT EVIL, 28 DAYS LATER, and HOUSE OF THE DEAD, this films plays as if Todd Sheets had gotten behind the helm of a Sci-Fi Channel original film. It's an amateur production that had somehow been given a larger than usual budget, and the results are just as derivative, tedious, and uninspired as its micro-budget counterparts.

Directors James Dudelson and Ana Clavell have made a film that almost but not quite reaches the so-bad-it's-entertaining mark. Not that it flirts with the delirious stupidity of TROLL 2, but these co-directors throw in enough details like subtitles identifying what language is being spoken or soldiers who swath their rifles in bandages that you can enjoy the film knowing you could make a better movie. (I wonder if some point during the production, the directors looked at each other and wondered what the hell the other was doing.)

The effects are another curious aspect of CONTAGIUM. While the CGI is as negligible as expected, the zombie and gore make-ups are pretty good, easily the highlight of the picture; but just as you're beginning to appreciate them, the filmmakers have the nerve to pass off dried glue on the actors' faces as peeling skin. This trick didn't cut it in high school jokes, you people.

What's worst about DAY OF THE DEAD 2: CONTAGIUM is that it's more concerned with the title's built-in audience rather than its legacy, in separating fans from their money instead of giving them what they want. Some may find this passable on a camp level, but more discriminating fans (especially Romero's) will want to avoid it.

DAY 303--DEAD MOON RISING

2008-08-30T15:49:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure why I'm even bothering. There's not a single thing about the 2007 indie film DEAD MOON RISING that I haven't written about, and you haven't seen, before. Following the Do-it-Yourself Guide to Cookie-Cutter Zombie Filmmaking to the letter, writer/director Mark E. Poole's maiden effort isn't even distinguished by its ineptitude, not bad enough to stand out from the rest of the shot-on-video muck.

Now, when it's too late, do I realize I should've written a template review and just changed names accordingly; it would be less of a hassle than reiterating the same laundry list of complaints, though not as much of a chore as sitting through the movie itself.

Let's see if I boil the premise down to its barest minimum: Plague. Zombies. Trapped survivors. Yep, that about covers it. Anything more would be redundant.

DEAD MOON RISING commits the same cinematic sins as most micro-budget films, most importantly a screenplay oblivious to such concepts as tempo and rhythm, but lumps in the usual suspects. We've got feeble attempts at humor, a bland, charisma-challenged cast (including an especially anemic lead), and not the barest shred of anything original. (Poole seems to understand how well-versed his audience will be, presenting his "this is how the plague spreads" montage without sound; yet rather than rehash for the umpteenth time something we've already seen, why not take a chance and try something new?)

Instead Poole gives us unwanted exposition in the form of a fourth wall-breaking narrator with all the personality of a fence post (if information isn't or can't be given through the course of dialogue it's either not necessary or a badly-written script) and a BARB WIRE-inspired action babe that plays her part laughably straight-faced.

Only one thing about this film impressed me, and that was the frightening number of extras Poole corralled for his finale. Seriously, my graduating class was smaller than this group. It's an awe-inspiring sight to see the frame filled with so many zombies; of course, they go criminally underutilized, but by that point you're resigned to as much.

Skip this one, and you've missed nothing.

DAY 302--CHOKING HAZARD

2008-08-28T11:27:00.003-04:00

We horror geeks are a pretty easy-to-please bunch. We're especially susceptible to an over-the-top approach or an audacious style--in fact, sometimes that's all we need to elevate a new film to cult status.

Take for example the 2004 Czech film CHOKING HAZARD, which strives for the zany anarchy of Peter Jackson or EVIL ED (remember that Swedish meatball?) yet never realizes that when going surface over substance you've got to go balls-out, otherwise why bother?

Director Marek Dobes tells his story of a philosophical retreat's run-in with a horde of zombie woodsmen with an aggressive hyper-style, almost gratuitously so (such as filming the removal of a bottle cap with the same intensity of THE MATRIX's bullet-time), but it's a smoke screen, a means to disguise HAZARD's shallow, simplistic plot. Yet, consciously or not, he can't maintain that degree of high-impact filmmaking, and the gimmicky tricks soon fall by the wayside, leaving the one-note story to flounder on its own.

Usually, when a movie coasts on technique the director will ladle on the gore or humor, often combining them to a heady stew that makes up for its hollowness, but CHOKING HAZARD curiously lacks bite in both departments. It's primarily a comedy, though the laughs are consistently ineffective (a casualty of the cultural barrier, perhaps, but this type of humor doesn't need translating). It's almost as if Dobes believes his premise is inherently funny, and the gags will write themselves; The only potentially amusing concept, that of a Jehovah's Witness porn star who accidentally joins the group (and provided the solitary laugh this movie got out of me), doesn't get the mileage it should, and gets stuck as a one-note, repetitive character. The film's horrific aspects don't fare much better.

Idiotic enough to make Benny Hill look like P.G. Wodehouse, CHOKING HAZARD will be best appreciated by those who watch SOUTH PARK only for the fart jokes. Hopefully, this isn't representative of the types of films being produced in the Czech Republic.

I also have no idea what the title's supposed to mean.

DAY 301--GUT PILE

2008-08-27T14:02:00.002-04:00

The isolated tranquility of any rural location has always--to me, at least--held a vague sense of sinister potential. I've never quite been sure what exactly causes it, whether it's the stark landscape of barren trees or expanses of fields or simply the fact of being miles from the next person (that you know of), but the right kind of secluded atmosphere can give a film a foreboding mood that photography or editing can't replicate. It's at this quality that Jerry O'Sullivan's 1997 shot-on-video production GUT PILE excels, making up for a film that's too bogged down in unoriginal concepts to be truly memorable.

Jeffrey Forsyth accidentally kills a fellow hunter, mistaking him for a deer, and buries the corpse in a shallow grave within the woods. The following year, he and his buddies (played by DIY-cinema guru Ron Bonk and Ed Mastin) head to the same area for a little R&R, unaware that a little justice from beyond the grave is about to be meted out.

Despite its micro-budget trappings, GUT PILE has a lot going for it: the videography is solid, with a few skewed camera angles for the right off-kilter feel, the acting is much better than most camcorder-based movies (especially Mastin, who wrings a lot of low-keyed humor out of his role), and the dialogue isn't painful to listen to for a change. But as refreshing as all of this was, it can't compensate for the times the movie falters.

At only 51 minutes, it moves a lot slower than it should, delaying its scares as late as possible. And while this is a story as complex as a revenge tale out EC Comics, it still would've been nice to have a better idea of how shaken Forsyth was by the accident. Is he remorseful? Grateful no one discovered his crime? We get glimpses, but not enough to get a handle on his character.

GUT PILE also utilizes the POV camera style that THE EVIL DEAD made popular, relying on it to such a degree that it begins to feel like a remake of Raimi's film than an homage to it. It undercuts O'Sullivan's chance of developing a style of his own, a shame since it's clear he's operating at a higher level of craft than most SOV filmmakers. I also had a problem with the movie's climax, with Forsyth spending too much time running from "unseen" (i.e. non-existent) threats, and keeping the undead hunter off-screen for far too long. At least O'Sullivan closes on a downbeat, if unsurprising, note.

It's not a great film, and at times not even a good one, but GUT PILE is still better than most video-bound movies out there. Fans of the do-it-yourself aesthetic will want to give this one a try.

DAY 300--DAWN OF THE DEAD (1979)

2008-08-24T14:52:00.003-04:00

The year is 1991. A young man stands in the Horror section of his local video store, an area that will have a significant impact on his life. He's sixteen years old, and his passion for all things horror is fierce (so intense it's given him a horribly pretentious attitude about anything remotely mainstream, a phase he'll thankfully outgrow). The film selection--surprisingly eclectic for a small hick town--is an embarrassment of riches; the trouble isn't finding a gem among the dreck, but which unseen classic or hidden treasure is on the agenda tonight?

You see, celluloid terrors were strictly verboten during his formative years. Although he'd always been a monster-happy kid, the kind who was consistently disappointed when Scooby-Doo and the gang discovered the ghost was just Old Man Crenshaw, his mother's death when he was nine turned his favorite entertainment into a morbid, unhealthy obsession (including a laughably misguided "intervention" with the family minister, an early lesson in the cluelessness of adults). So when his friends at school were discussing horror du jour like CHILD'S PLAY or PUMPKINHEAD he was sorely out of the loop.

But things are different now. Parental strictures have loosened, and with this newfound freedom he can finally indulge in the pleasures of movies he's read about in FANGORIA and GOREZONE, or seen profiled on THE INCREDIBLY STRANGE FILM SHOW. Already this year he's logged THE EVIL DEAD, THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, RE-ANIMATOR, and BLUE VELVET, all of which will remain lifelong favorites. But tonight's film, George Romero's 1979 landmark DAWN OF THE DEAD, will be more than a mere movie-going experience.

It will be a revelation.

It's when this young man discovers that he really, really likes zombies. Loves them to their shambling, rotten core. He's not content to simply watch anything with ZOMBIE or DEAD in the title--in his dreams he outruns the undead masses through the Monroeville Mall. In his waking hours he scribbles zombie tales of varying degrees of mediocrity, hoping to recreate that initial cocaine-like rush. It's the beginning of a mania that he'll carry into adulthood, when he neglects his patient, understanding wife in the pursuit of a half-assed blogging quest.

That DAWN is a remarkable film is not enough. True, he loved the brooding, apocalyptic feel (and having grown up in Pennsylvania farm country, the setting strikes an even deeper chord with him) and the avaricious fantasy of living unchecked in a deserted mall. The charms of actors Ken Foree (who left him mute and fumbling when he bumped into him in the hallway of a Baltimore hotel), Gaylen Ross, David Emge (who has the greatest zombie-stride in horror history), and Scott Reininger were not lost on him; Romero's social commentary was (at the time, he was more concerned with Tom Savini's make-up than satire). But what happened during that first screening was a fusion at the DNA level, a meeting of celluloid and flesh, when the dead became a part of him.

Growing up, he can see that DAWN OF THE DEAD is not perfect. He's surprised to realize just how ineffectual Ross's character really is (and wonders if Romero made Lori Cardille so tough in DAY to compensate for her and NIGHT's Barbara's weakness), or to notice just how many mannequins stand in for zombies during key moments. Or how much the "optimistic" ending never quite sits right with him. But these minor quibbles do nothing for his unabashed devotion anymore than his wife's irritating habits affects his love for her (not that she has any).

He wouldn't be the person he is today without DAWN OF THE DEAD. Some may call that a pity, and perhaps they're right. But there isn't much you can do when the dead come to claim you.

(POSTSCRIPT: 365 Days of the Dead was originally intended to conclude with DAWN, as it's my definition of the ultimate zombie film, but I moved it up a bit, since I didn't want to end the project on a movie I wasn't going to say much about.)

DAY 299--CORPSES ARE FOREVER

2008-08-24T11:33:00.002-04:00

Regular readers of this blog will know I tend to go easier on bad movies when they at least try to do something different--or, dare I hope, unique--but watching the 2003 indie CORPSES ARE FOREVER I found myself with conflicting feelings; it's certainly an original movie, bordering on stylish, but profound directorial inadequacies constantly overshadow its merits.

Writer/director Jose Prendes stars as Quint Barrow, a seemingly undead man in search of his kidnapped son. Shot on black-and-white video, it's a faintly noirish story, intriguing enough to overlook Prendes's turn as a shockingly passive parent and the incessant and needless voice-over that accompanies him--

--until Prendes pulls a fast one, thrusting us without warning into a full-color post-apocalyptic world (and we're talking genuine, New Testament apocalypse here) overrun with the living dead. It's a jarring and frankly disappointing transition--especially since it also transforms mild-mannered Everyman Prendes was initially playing into a bad-ass spy, whose martial arts proficiency is woefully substandard--but the explanation is, refreshingly, something we haven't seen before. In fact, I was so struck by the possibilities within the premise that I stayed with an increasingly complicated plot to see if Prendes would surprise me further. The investment, sadly, was a bad one.

Despite a solid roster of horror vets (among them Linnea Quigley, Richard Lynch, Felissa Rose, and Don Calfa) and a laudable desire to be multi-layered, CORPSES suffers from a problematic narrative; convoluted when it wants to be complex, the story shifts its tone so frequently that any sense of rhythm is disrupted. We're also treated to the ever-present plague of wretched sound quality that makes many of the scenes sound as if they were filmed in a wind tunnel.

But the biggest fault lies with Prendes himself. I'm usually leery whenever the director stars in his own picture, since the decision is more often one of ego than economics, and in this case my apprehension was justified. At its worst, watching CORPSES is watching a grown man play dress-up, indulging in a bevy of adolescent wish-fulfillment fantasies; not only does he get to beat up the walking dead, but he gets to tussle in bed with femme fatale Debbie Rochon, put on a hard-boiled tough-guy routine in the movie's B-plot, and rebuff the advances from a sexy, yet hilariously out-of-place, nurse. All of this could be tolerable if Prendes could pull it off, but he's unfortunately not much of a leading man. It's not just that he doesn't have the chops for this kind of role, but there's a smug self-satisfaction underlying his performance that's as annoying as it is unwarranted.

Normally, when a filmmaker aims high and falls short I commend their efforts, but I'm not sure how I feel in this case. Maybe if Prendes casts someone else as the lead, and has a tighter script, next time out I'll give him a look, but in either instance I think I'll pass on the proposed follow-up THE CORPSE WHO LOVED ME. (By the way, despite the titular puns and a Shirley Bassey-esque theme song, the Bond motif plays very little into the actual picture.)

DAY 298--ZOMBIE JAZZ

2008-08-22T23:03:00.004-04:00

The title ZOMBIE JAZZ invokes some pretty vivid imagery: a smoky coffeehouse, filmed in crisp black-and-white, filled with finger-snapping hepcats surrounding a stage as an undead poet, beret cocked on his mangled skull, recites beatnik verse in guttural tones. The accompanying music would be real smooth, you dig?

Steve Dunnington's 2007 short film ZOMBIE JAZZ couldn't be any more removed from that scenario if it'd been called ZOMBIE ZYDECO JAMBOREE.

By now I should know better, but for some reason (perhaps the sixteen-hour day at the theater I've just put in) I expected something different than the amateurish "horror-comedy" that I got. This thing's ridiculous even by home-movie standards.

At least it's only four minutes long.

DAY 297--THE ABANDONED

2008-08-22T22:00:00.002-04:00

Nacho Cerda's THE ABANDONED was among the first batch of films released as part of After Dark's Horrorfest in 2006, and was the only one of those initial eight to garner a theatrical release. At first glance it makes sense; Cerda probably had the largest cult reputation, thanks to his notorious short film AFTERMATH, but THE ABANDONED is not exactly the kind of movie that does well at the local multiplex.

Written by Cerda and SUBCONSCIOUS CRUELTY director Karim Hussain, THE ABANDONED stars Anastasia Hille as an adoptee traveling to Russia in order to learn about her birth parents. She visits a rustic cabin she's inherited deep within the forest, beginning a journey into life and death, the past and the present, and the secrets that lie in the hearts of families. A journey that includes a mysterious man named Nicolai (Karel Roden) who knows more about her past than he should, and a pair of strange, zombie-like doppelgangers.

This movie should've been a modern masterpiece, and if judging solely on technical savvy Cerda still succeeds. He creates an unbearably lush atmosphere, worthy of the likes of Mario Bava, establishing and maintaining such a foreboding mood that just know something ominous will happen. Cinematographer Xavi Gimenez's excellent photography uses nature to not only heighten the ambiance, but to underscore the film's thematic elements as well (note the significance of the river in the scenes bookending the story's core). The screenplay also suggests some novel concepts, such as the ability to haunt a location before your arrival, or to feel the same pain as your ghost.

Yet, almost tragically, despite Cerda's best efforts to be genuinely scary, THE ABANDONED doesn't quite hit its mark. Blame can be pointed at Hille, whose stiff and cold demeanor may be necessary thematically, but is hard for an audience to connect to (Cerda reportedly refused to consider name actresses such as Holly Hunter or Nastassja Kinski, insisting upon an unknown; I understand his reasoning, but he could've chosen better), but the script shoulders most of the burden. Its tempo is much to slow truly be effective, trying to convey too much of the story through dialogue and creating a tedium that destroys much of what Cerda has achieved. The mystery aspect is not enough of a hook, raising more questions than they answer (surely the point, but still) and the origins of the doppelgangers is never made clear, nor mined for true suspense beyond their original reveal. It also grows needlessly obtuse as it reaches the finale, fumbling the tension when it should be cranking it.

Still, regardless of its considerable flaws, THE ABANDONED remains one of the most notable films of the decade. A cerebral, spiritual movie, sure to please fans of David Lynch and Alejandro Jodorowsky, it possesses an ambition little seen in this era of rampant remakes and graphic-novel adaptations. I'd much rather see an artist falter trying to accomplish something unique than the usual prefabricated, audience-friendly schlock.

DAY 296--ZOMBIE AFTERMATH

2008-08-22T14:13:00.002-04:00

Drawing inspiration from PLANET OF THE APES and the myriad MAD MAX rip-offs that proliferated during the early '80s, writer/producer/director Steve Barkett's 1982 film ZOMBIE AFTERMATH has the makings of a pretty good film: an enthralling premise, a smattering of monsters, and the promise of sci-fi-tinged action. What it doesn't have is the budget or skill of a pretty good film, and thus turns these raw ingredients into 95 minutes of sludge.

Barkett also stars as part of a three-man space crew that crash-lands off "the coast of Los Angeles," only to find the Earth has been reduced to an unoriginal post-nuclear wasteland populated with roving biker gangs led by Sid Haig and highly flammable mutants (which go completely in flames at the barest touch of a match-head).

ZOMBIE AFTERMATH ultimately degenerates into a cliched blow-up-and-rescue vehicle that would make Chuck Norris weep; it's a hopelessly misguided mess, boasting all the production value of a cheap Filipino actioner and the excitement of Pledge Week on PBS. The abominable special effects--including penny-ante matte paintings and a spaceship set that would've embarrassed Al Adamson--do nothing to detract from the directionless, plotless "story." Barkett makes for an incredibly poor action hero, which at least keeps him consistent with the rest of the amateurish cast; Haig does the same psycho shtick he'd deliver for Rob Zombie twenty years later, but even his rape-happy character can't liven the film.

The finale tosses in some (very) mildly interesting action, such as a rooftop chase (which appears to have been performed on actual high-rise balconies without wires or safety harnesses); yet Barkett mishandles this as well, allowing a villain who's been shotgunned in both legs to stand, let alone fight.

Perhaps you've noticed that I've not yet made any mention of the film's zombies. The reason is simple: THERE ARE NO ZOMBIES IN THIS MOVIE. Yes, my reward after enduring this terrible picture--transferred onto DVD from a beat-to-hell VHS complete with tracking problems--is a copyright notice proclaiming this to be called merely THE AFTERMATH. Now, I've scrapped potential blog entries midway when I realized they weren't about zombies, but wouldn't something titled ZOMBIE AFTERMATH contain, I dunno, zombies? This could've been a how-to gardening video and the name would be just as accurate, and probably more entertaining to boot; yet by slapping on a misleading label someone managed to make this dross even less useless.

DAY 295--GRAVE ROBBERS

2008-08-21T15:15:00.002-04:00

GRAVE ROBBERS is an unremarkable Mexican outing that, like the recently reviewed EVIL CLUTCH, isn't good enough to be entertaining, yet doesn't achieve the right level of stupidity to still be watchable. Director Ruben Galindo Jr.'s 1990 film certainly has its share of unintended laughs, but not enough to make it worth the investment.

A group of treasure-seeking teens break into the subterranean tomb of a satanic priest, only to resurrect him as a vengeance-hungry zombie. In addition to killing those who disturbed his grave, the priest is also out to impregnate a virgin for the birth of the Antichrist.

The first hour of GRAVE ROBBERS is horrendously bogged down with laborious action and nonsensical dialogue; really, the movie couldn't have been less boring if the DVD was blank. The final third act almost compensates for this tedium with some pretty decent gore (including a grisly ax to the face) and the kind of illogical filmmaking bad movie buffs yearn for. But GRAVE ROBBERS can't maintain its manic brainlessness, and crumbles long before its sappy ending.

Worth a derisive chuckle maybe, but GRAVE ROBBERS falls short of the gold standard of TROLL 2.

DAY 294--GHOSTS OF THE DEAD

2008-08-21T14:39:00.002-04:00

Most short films--at least the ones I've been viewing for this blog, anyway--reveal their hand early, letting you know upfront if you're in for a quirky treat or unbearable boredom. Cortney B. Brown's 2007 short GHOSTS OF THE DEAD isn't quite so easy to read, appearing at first to be one step above somebody's home movies, then sneaking into a more stylish mode.

Unfortunately, it shifts back to hackneyed storytelling soon thereafter.

After a "prologue" consisting of Zombie Walk footage mixed with a bloodied girl dragging on a cigarette (fortunately, this didn't turn out to be the grossly self-indulgent wank-fest I was expecting), it gets its minimalist story underway. Brown cobbles together the standard zombie-film beats, and GHOSTS is more a suggestion of a story than a full-fledged narrative, but there's a little style and an attempt at something different; granted, it's the notion of zombies having ghosts, which is as confusing as it is possibly contradictory, but give Brown points for trying.

Then subtract those points for not delving deeper into the premise. GHOSTS devolves into the same amateurish mess we've seen time and again, confusing rampant use of the word "fuck" with character development and running hopelessly off the rails. (Why would you spent a full minute in a seven-minute film in a meaningless driving montage?)

The zombies are interesting (though the noise they make, which sounds like a Sleestak getting suctioned in a dentist's chair, gets annoying quick), but ultimately GHOSTS OF THE DEAD has no real point and thus no reason to go anywhere. Perhaps Brown should consider exploring his ideas a bit further, but let's wait until the Sleestaks have their check-up, okay?

DAY 293--RETURN OF THE BLIND DEAD

2008-08-20T18:02:00.002-04:00

I think I'll be keeping this review kinda short.

Mostly because there isn't much I can say about 1973's RETURN OF THE BLIND DEAD that I haven't already mentioned in the previous reviews in Amando de Ossorio's Blind Dead series (though I'm viewing this one last, it's actually the second in the chronology). All the hallmarks that've made this one of my favorite series--the palpable atmosphere, the ominous chanting soundtrack, the skeletal visages and slow-mo gait of the Knights Templar--are here.

In this installment the Knights descend upon a quaint Portuguese village and terrorize its citizens during their centennial festival. Those who don't care for the creeping pace of these movies will be equally bored here, since RETURN offers perhaps the fewest thrills of them all; this may be due to a fair amount of cuts inflicted upon the film--including Anchor Bay's supposedly unedited version, which is the one I've seen--but I honestly don't think a little extra gore would've helped much. Save for one scene involving a young, frightened girl being used as bait to lure the Knights so the unsavory characters can escape, there isn't a whole lot going on.

Obviously, if you're a fan of any of the other Blind Dead movies you'll want to make time for RETURN, but casual viewers may want to stick with the original TOMBS OF THE BLIND DEAD or the formula-breaking HORROR OF THE ZOMBIES, aka GHOST GALLEON (or, if faster-paced thrills are what you're after, skip them altogether).

DAY 292--NEITHER THE SEA NOR THE SAND

2008-08-20T17:20:00.003-04:00

When I first started 365 Days, I was surprised to see just how many zombie films--or films involving the dead returning to life--were centered around a love story. But when you think about it, it makes sense; the notion of a love so strong it defies death is a terribly romantic one, and the desire to be with that one true love forever is incredibly powerful.

It's a need that drives the 1972 film NEITHER THE SEA NOR THE SAND, which weaves elements of mystery and horror into a whirlwind romance. Susan Hampshire plays a young woman who meets a lighthouse keeper (Frank Finlay), with whom she begins an abrupt, passionate affair. Together they escape to a Scottish isle, where Finlay dies during a romp on the beach. But it'll take more than death to keep these lovers apart.

Director Fred Burnley, working from a screenplay by Gordon Honeycombe (who also wrote the novel it's based upon), posits that Hampshire and Finlay's love is so strong, so pure, that death cannot separate them, but don't go in expecting THE CROW. This film is first and foremost a romance, and I've got no problem with that, except that it's an exceptionally talky and slow romance; Burnley keeps the story moving with a pace roughly the speed of the average glacier.

And though there are times it feels deadeningly dull, there are a couple of moments that (almost) make it worth the effort. Finlay's initial return after his death is a creepy highlight, and turns up toward the end as a gradually rotting corpse. But Burnley merely skirts around the horrific, never truly embracing it, and these sequences quickly lose their impact.

NEITHER THE SEA NOR THE SAND is the kind of movie most people picture when they think "art film": long stretches of dialogue, a dearth of physical activity on screen, and an emphasis on theme over plot. It wants to be profound, but is much too plodding--and while Hampshire's character is intended to be a grief-stricken romantic, but often comes across as obsessive and weird once Finlay's dead, making any type of sympathy difficult.

Fans of '70s cinema, or the extraordinarily patient, may want to visit this one, but those seeking a more visceral experience should head elsewhere.

DAY 291--ZOMBIEZ

2008-08-19T18:19:00.004-04:00

Picking up the brain-addled antics where ELECTRIC ZOMBIES left off is the 2004 shot-on-video movie ZOMBIEZ, directed by Zachary Winston Snygg (who churns out "urban" styled rotgut horror like VAMPIYAZ AND BLOODZ VS. WOLVEZ, and apparently loves the letter "Z"), hiding here under his initials. After seeing this confusing mishmash I can't blame him for wanting to stay anonymous.

What's it about? Good question. I sure as hell don't know, and none of the actors involved in this mess bothered to summarize it on IMDB for our convenience, probably because they don't know either. Snygg most likely made this up as he went, if the drastic shifts in tone and story are any indication.

Nor do I think Snygg knows much about zombies, since he opens his film with a crawl explaining the origin of the undead (he likes explaining things, so much that he breaks the movie into little segments, headed with pretentious definitions of simple words--i.e. fear, lost, etc.), but he gets it wrong; "traditional" zombies, those induced into death-like trances by the use of hallucinogenics, don't eat people. Romero kinda added that when he made NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, as anyone who slept during Horror Ed 101 will tell you.

Jenicia Garcia stars as part of a demolition crew working out of either a run-down industrial district or the edge of a forest, depending on where the story needs it. After sickle-wielding zombies kill her supervisor she heads home, only to have her husband abducted by them once she gets there. She then gets waylaid in a HOSTEL-like torture chamber before embarking on a loooooooooooong foot chase through the woods and running into a clan of cannibals in order to get him back.

Like I said, it's a bit jumbled.

If there had been a shred of sharp direction or skilled dramatics on board it might not've been so bad, but ZOMBIEZ comes up empty in either department. Nor does anything happen, since the plot prefers to go in circles rather than move forward, burdened with some of the worst dialogue I've ever encountered. (Snygg's idea of a police interrogation is to repeat the same question without variation five or six times, and his attempts at slang are clumsy at best.)

Worse, Snygg tries to inject some humor into the proceedings, but he handles comedy as sloppily as he does horror (what the hell is a man in a chicken suit doing in this thing?). Of course, that's not to say you won't be laughing during ZOMBIEZ, because there's plenty of ineptitude to chuckle at.

Yikes. Just yikes.

DAY 290--ELECTRIC ZOMBIES

2008-08-19T17:38:00.002-04:00

Have you ever done something you knew you weren't probably going to like--be it going on a date with someone who wasn't your type, or consuming drinks with names like Elephant Enema--but did it anyway? What you feel afterward isn't necessarily regret, but almost a vague sense of shame that goes beyond "I told you so." The 2006 shot-on-video release ELECTRIC ZOMBIES is like that, a movie so universally reviled by those who've seen it that I knew I had to see it, even though it's as much fun as eating a bucket of bad clams.

In a premise that Stephen King would find awfully familiar, ordinary citizens are becoming brain-washed zombies due when they answer their cell phones. I hate to do this, but for further plot information allow me to quote in full the Plot Summary from the film's IMDB page:

"Cult horror director John Specht's low-budget feature, "Electric Zombies," neatly cobbles together two disparate genres: the conspiracy thriller and the horror/slasher movie. It also comments sardonically on the post-9/11 fear of the U.S. government-gone-haywire, as it recounts the tale of a misguided federal project to brainwash "enemies of the state" via cell-phone signals. The signals inadvertently grow in power and become redirected to the U.S., turning unsuspecting civilians into super-obedient zombies whenever their cell phones are answered. They receive self-destructive orders, which they follow will-lessly -- orders running the gamut from self-mutilation to suicide to homicide to riot. Those who manage to escape from falling prey to the menace must find a way to stop the threat -- before the U.S. erupts into unchecked anarchy."

The above synopsis is credited to one Jonas Moses, who appears as an actor in the film. Frankly, I would've still known it was a ringer's review by two things: one, it isn't the least bit negative, and two, Moses knew exactly what the movie was about.

There is absolutely no way one can discern what happens in ELECTRIC ZOMBIES just by watching it. It's a terminally muddled "thriller," compensating in confusion what it lacks in thrills. Director John Specht lets us know right off the bat we'll never know what's going on, drowning the dialogue under the score and sound effects and fading in and out without rhyme or reason every thirty seconds. We've got spies, politicians, cops, pimps and ho's, but what we don't have is a clue.

ELECTRIC ZOMBIES fails in every conceivable artistic capacity, too cheap, boring, and stupid to even elicit a passionate response. Watching it won't make you laugh or piss you off; you'll just sit there with a vague feeling of sympathy, praying for the end to come (the movie's or yours, whichever happens to arrive first).

If you're anything like me you normally rush out and track down a movie that gets a virulent review like this one, and because I know the mentality I won't bother to stop you. Instead I'll wait until the following morning, give you a comforting pat on the shoulder, and say, "I told you so."

DAY 289--THE SNAKE PEOPLE

2008-08-19T17:03:00.003-04:00

One of a handful of Mexican films Boris Karloff made shortly before his death (and released posthumously), 1971's THE SNAKE PEOPLE is often considered the best of a bad lot. While it wasn't the cinematic abortion I was expecting, it wasn't particularly good, either.

Collaborating directors Juan Ibanez and Jack (SPIDER BABY) Hill suggest an intriguing little programmer at the outset, kicking off with a voodoo ritual complete with a sinister dwarf and a live chicken decapitation, but it soon degenerates into talky occultic hokum. (Nor did anyone in the production do their homework, once again referring to voodoo as a religion of "black magic and a cult of death.")

South-of-the-border actress Julissa heads to an unspecified Caribbean locale on a smug, self-important quest to rid the world of alcohol consumption--it's responsible for 99.2% of all the world's sins, don't you know. Along with her wealthy uncle (Karloff, dressed for some reason like Colonel Sanders), she quickly gets ensnared in the plans of a fiendish voodoo cult that's been turning beautiful native girls into zombies. (The title, I'm sorry to say, refers to the use of snakes during voodoo rituals, and not people who are part reptile. Shoot.)

It's fairly sluggish material, with little going for it. Karloff looks visibly uncomfortable throughout--whether it was his failing health or knowing he was acting in a dud, I can't say--and the rest of the cast aren't much better. The main reason anyone will keep watching is the (mildly) erotic undercurrent embodied by snake dancer Tongolele, not to mention various hallucinatory sequences involving women gripping writhing snakes or some brief girl-on-girl play.

The zombies in THE SNAKE PEOPLE owe more to more subtle fare like WHITE ZOMBIE than George Romero, so don't expect any flesh-eating--heck, don't expect them to be on-screen much.

It's a sad, sad showcase for one of the genre's finest actors.

DAY 288--FLAMING GAY ZOMBIES

2008-08-18T17:59:00.002-04:00

At least this 2007 short film had a hook--I'm not sure you could actually call it a plot--unlike most shorts I've seen, which consists of zombies chasing the director's friends through the backyard. And that, my friends, is as close as I can come to praising FLAMING GAY ZOMBIES, a jaw-droppingly terrible production from Sadya Lashua and Aaron Mace.

I'm not really sure what to make of this, since it's hard to tell what the filmmakers were trying to do. It's not a satire, nor a comment on what it's like to be gay. I think it might be a comedy, but with humor this sophomoric and unfunny, I can't say. The story, such as it is, involves a young man who comes across a magical pair of glasses that, for reasons unexplained, enables him to turn other men into zombies with a single bite; only these "zombies" aren't really the living dead, but rather straight men turned queer, a parallel I found terribly insulting and I'm not even gay. This plot device serves no real purpose other than an excuse to indulge in unamusing gay jokes and extended scenes of man-on-man groping. (It amounts basically to softcore gay porn, but if that's your thing, I'm sure you can find better examples elsewhere.)

Pointless and tedious, there's nothing about FLAMING GAY ZOMBIES that makes much sense. I don't think the filmmakers are gay, nor do they know much about male homosexuality--they confuse it with transvestism, for one thing--and at times they come off as contemptuous of gays; certainly the ending does as the zombies "turn straight." (And let's not forget the segment in which our hero pimps out his zombies, taking great pains to emphasize how cheap they are.) It makes me wonder about their motivation, though, since despite a creeping anti-queer sentiment they dwell extensively on sequences of guys writhing on top of one another.

Oh, and can someone explain the ending to me, aside from the cheap symbolism of eating phallic hot dogs?

DAY 287--NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD 3D

2008-08-18T16:56:00.003-04:00

Why in the name of all that is holy was this allowed to happen? I mean, was anybody really asking for this?

Once again the undisputed classic NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is thrown over a barrel and sodomized for the sole purpose of scraping up a few easy bucks from a built-in audience--sheesh, Ned Beatty didn't have it this bad in DELIVERANCE. While I don't think anything could top John Russo's desecration for the 30th Anniversary "Special Edition," this ill-conceived and thoroughly unwanted 2006 remake comes mighty damn close. (I could also say that NIGHT was remade once already, and didn't exactly require another go-round, but this deep into the blog I've learned that Romero's film has essentially been remade dozens of times.)

Director--and oh, how I use that term loosely--Jeff Broadstreet made one of those movies that's so bad, so incompetent, and so insulting (on both a conceptual level and in execution) that it invokes a profound, indignant anger; I honestly can't remember a movie made me this flat-out furious. The hubris to remake a classic of NIGHT's stature is bad enough, but to do it without an iota of filmmaking savvy (Broadstreet is to cinema what Josef Mengele is to modern medicine) is unacceptable.

The good news, if there can be any gleaned from a colossal fuck-up like this, is that this version is largely an in-name-only remake. Aside from a hideously inept cemetery opening, this NIGHT cuts its own swath, though the asinine story's no different than a hundred other zombie flicks, and no better. Broadstreet seems to think that "updating" a movie means tossing in gratuitous references to MapQuest and cell phones, and his modernized version of "They're coming to get you, Barbara" would've brought bile to the back of my throat if wasn't so spectacularly stupid and faux-clever.

At least Broadstreet had the good sense to surround himself with actors of the same caliber. Sid Haig, who seems to phone it in for any director not named Rob Zombie, plays one of the characters invented for this version (I wonder if he'd have still half-assed this part if he'd known it was written expressly for him) and, quite frankly, isn't fit to shine Duane Jones's shoes. And as for Brianna Brown, our upgraded Barbara, I have two words of career advice for her that will mesh nicely with her range of talent: Porn. Ography.

(If you've noticed why I haven't yet mentioned this version being in 3D, it's because I watched the flat edition also available, though I really didn't see anything that could've benefited from the third dimension aside from a marketing gimmick. Don't worry, though, it'll still make you dizzy.)

This latest NIGHT couldn't even achieve the escapist fun of Tom Savini's 1990 remake, let alone attempt a stab at the original's social or political commentary. No, everybody runs around until the zombies get them. That's pretty much the whole story right there. And if you haven't watched it yet, you're welcome.

If I do compile a Worst Of list at the end of this project, as I've been seriously contemplating, this NIGHT is a sure bet for the Top Five. I'd tell you to avoid it, but what I really want you to do is find a copy, stomp it beneath your foot, piss on the remains, and bury it by the side of the road. Trust me, it's a more productive activity than actually watching the goddamn thing.

DAY 286--THE EMBALMER

2008-08-18T15:05:00.002-04:00

Director S. Torriano Berry sets the tone for his 1996 shot-on-video chiller THE EMBALMER by prefacing it with "A We Had No Money, So We Had Fun Production." And while I'll always admire the let's-put-on-a-show spirit of so many non-professional features, somewhere along the line Berry forgot that the audience has to have fun, too.

THE EMBALMER attempts to create a nightmarish figure out of the fictional urban legend of Undertaker Zack, a mortician who uses his victims' bodily fluids to revive his slaughtered family, but Berry's raw ingredients just don't gel. It could be the poorly-conceived title crawl that establishes the legend ("We all have our childhood myths and legends that scared the sh-- [sic] out of us"), the horrible rap song that accompanies it, or the fact that a villain named Zack simply isn't all that scary.

Berry gets things to a good start, though, in a fairly disturbing prologue in which Zack's daughter witnesses him killing her mother before being murdered herself, but the story quickly derails without ever getting back on track. The film's backstory is a bit heavy-handed and force-fed to the audience, and the plot strains credibility (such as the abusive asshole parents who're too cartoonish to be believable, or that one of the scholarship-bound teens would ditch his promising future to run away with his friend and his gal-pal, and on a whim no less) and digresses too much to gain much momentum.

THE EMBALMER has pretty good production values, given its limitations, and the cast is adequate, although the script tends to turn them into unlikable snits somewhere after the first act. Way too little time is spent with Undertaker Zack or his undead family (though considering the lousy zombie makeup on display, maybe that's a good thing), as the characters wander aimlessly through Zack's dilapidated abode or sneaking off for a little discreet fornication.

Although it shows glimmers of skill (to my surprise, Berry's not an upstart filmmakers like I'd assumed--he was in his late thirties when he made this--but, according to his IMDB bio, a professor at Howard University's Department of Radio, Television, and Film), THE EMBALMER ultimately disappoints due mainly to its lackluster storytelling. Berry doesn't seem to have done another film since, but I'm curious to see what he'd do with a better screenplay at his disposal.

DAY 285--LET SLEEPING CORPSES LIE

2008-08-18T11:49:00.002-04:00

I'll admit it, I almost forgot to include Jorge Grau's 1974 film LET SLEEPING CORPSES LIE. Not because I'd overlooked it--unlikely, since it's not only one of my favorite zombie films--but because I thought I'd already reviewed it. I suppose these last few weeks of suffering through dreck like MY DEAD GIRLFRIEND and ZOMBIE STRIPPERS have led me to believe I'd worked through all the good films.

Also known under a slew of alternate titles--BREAKFAST AT THE MANCHESTER MORGUE, DO NOT SPEAK ILL OF THE DEAD, and DON'T OPEN THE WINDOW, among others--CORPSES bears the distinction of not only being arguably Spain's best contribution to the zombie subgenre, but as one one of the first films directly influenced by NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Unlike later imitators who were content to be mere rip-offs, Grau used Romero's classic as a starting point, a point of reference for his own movie. And the results, though not as well-known as Romero's, are just as successful.

I don't really want to start a compare-and-contrast of CORPSES and NIGHT, since each movie stands on its own merits, but as we'll see there are quite a few parallels that enrich the CORPSES viewing experience.

Most notably is that Grau gives a fairly specific, pseudo-scientific explanation for the zombie outbreak; with a nod to the eco-horror films of yore, an experimental pesticide technique using ultrasound waves that somehow revives the dead while killing off insects and vermin. (This also helps Grau pay homage to '50s sci-fi movies like THE BLOB, where the heroes can't convince the authorities of the outlandish situations they face.) This reason is also incorporated into the story, rather than being breezed over as a plot-starting gimmick.

As for the story itself, CORPSES eschews Romero's trapped-in-a-box scenario for a more detailed and nuanced plot that emphasizes mystery as much as horror, and a slightly deeper character development. (Please don't read any of this as a knock against NIGHT or Romero; I'm simply pointing out differences in approach, not extolling one at the other's expense.) And like its fellow countryman TOMBS OF THE BLIND DEAD, CORPSES uses a bucolic pastoral atmosphere to astonishing effect, particularly in the first reveal of the living dead, a sequence of beautifully executed tension; yet Grau never allows the mood to hamper or slow the story's pace.

(And while we're on the subject, I can't help but wonder if Grau chose a setting of lush beauty as a subtle ecological comment--note the contrasting prologue, as star Ray Lovelock flees an urban environment of noise and pollution--or if he put the grotesqueries of the living dead's attack against a placid backdrop to heighten the horror.)

Like Romero, Grau keeps his heroine (Christina Galbo, in a lightweight, borderline-irritating role) ineffectual for the duration of the movie, even subjecting her to a grim end at the conclusion--though Barbara never suffered the indignity of becoming the undead. What's more interesting is Lovelock's character George; standing in for Duane Jones, he replaces NIGHT's racial tension with generation-gap conflict as he clashes with Arthur Kennedy's fascist detective. With his "long hair and faggot clothes," it's obvious that he can do no right in Kennedy's eyes, and though his own fate echoes that of Jones's, it's still a foregone conclusion from their very first meeting. (Their relationship suggests what kind of threat the hippie movement posed to the European status quo, but certain aspects of Lovelock's character--his aforementioned appearance and fey demeanor imply a homophobic undertone as well.) While his death doesn't have quite the same resonance, at least Lovelock gets to come back and get his revenge--a denouement that diminishes its impact further.

Aided immeasurably by a distorted electronic score and a use of unusual sound, LET SLEEPING CORPSES LIE ranks among the most accomplished zombie films of all time, and might even be a contender for the best non-Romero zombie movie ever made. Any fan of the living dead who has not seen it has a glaring omission in their horror education, one they should rectify immediately. Those who have seen it should watch it again, just for the hell of it.

Essential.

DAY 284--SATAN'S SLAVE

2008-08-16T15:48:00.002-04:00

As I mentioned previously in the HELL'S GROUND review, foreign films can often be fascinating by translating domestic classics into a different cultural sensibility. Even when a movie's especially derivative of stateside terrors, seeing well-worn genre tropes in new contexts makes them simultaneously intriguing, amusing, and accessible. Curiously, various portions of the world rip off American horror films differently; while Italian horrors are notorious for slavishly copying popular trends, India, Turkey, and other Eastern countries are just as guilty. It's just that their versions have an energy, verve, and a unique sense of audacious ridiculousness that makes them infinitely rewatchable.

Well, most of them, anyway. Director Sisworo Gautama Putra's 1982 film SATAN'S SLAVE is an Indonesian take-off of PHANTASM, and though it's interesting to see Don Coscarelli's film retold against a Muslim backdrop (though, to be honest, if you're looking for the equivalent of the Tall Man or dwarfs or silver spheres, you won't find them here), the movie as a whole is lacking.

SLAVE plays very much like a conventional Western ghost story, focusing on hauntings and demonic possessions until late in the film, when the living dead arise. The family at the story's center has recently lost their mother, and in their grief have turned their backs on religion, thus allowing the evil spirits to take hold; while it's interesting to see how Islamic beliefs dictate the story, it's more of a plot device to get the ball rolling.

SATAN'S SLAVE comes close to reproducing PHANTASM's vaguely dream-like atmosphere, helped by a trippy Tangerine Dream-styled score, but it loses its momentum fairly soon and boredom quickly settles in. Aside from a goofy-looking "Satan" in a dream sequence, it's pretty slow going until the zombies show up (and even then it's kinda dull, even if the undead inexplicably hiss like Sleestaks).

If you really want to check out the wild delights Indonesian horror has to offer, try MYSTICS IN BALI or VIRGINS IN HELL instead.

DAY 283--MY DEAD GIRLFRIEND

2008-08-13T21:00:00.002-04:00

I knew I was in trouble before MY DEAD GIRLFRIEND even started. Director Brett Kelly begins his 2006 do-it-yourselfer with a production logo: Brett Kelly Productions, with the words framing the filmmaker's photo, before moving on to opening quotes from both Shakespeare and NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD--yep, it's time once again for Self-Enamored Amateur Director Theater. Perhaps if Kelly had spent more time working on a decent script instead of being in awe of himself he might've made a watchable horror-comedy.

Kelly also stars--big surprise--as a college professor who moves in with one of his female students. (Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that an ethics violation of some sort?) When Kelly accidentally backs over his new girlfriend, in one of the movie's many feeble examples of humor, he tries covering it up, only to discover she's come back as a flesh-eating zombie. (Don'tcha hate it when that happens?) This sets up a so-called comedy as Kelly inexplicably takes her on a camping trip that's slightly less amusing than an episode of HOMEBOYS FROM OUTER SPACE.

The story's utterly predictable, hitting every well-worn plot point right on schedule yet Kelly trots them out as if they're fresh. Making matters worse, he's a horrible leading man, a total black hole of charisma and a sloppy comedian to boot. This is the type of filmmaking--driven more by ego than a desire to tell a good story--that's all too prevalent on the DIY scene, and a shining illustration of why micro-budget films are so hard to sit through.

Even if you haven't watched MY DEAD GIRLFRIEND, you've already seen it, as there's nothing new or original. At 73 minutes, it's mercifully brief, yet still wears out is welcome staggeringly quick.

DAY 282--THE HORRIBLE DR. BONES

2008-08-13T19:38:00.003-04:00

Give credit where it's due, folks: this movie says right upfront that it's horrible. And it's by this criteria--and this criteria alone--that the movie succeeds. Directed by Ted Nicolau (who gave us the SUBSPECIES series), this 2000 effort was part of producer Charles Band's attempt to appeal to "urban" horror audiences, which basically consisted of throwing African-American actors into the same watered-down "monsters and puppets" scenarios of previous flicks.

The horrible titular doctor is a powerful and influential hip-hop mogul, though with a loose enough schedule to hold open auditions for aspiring artists. He signs a hopeful new group called the Urban Protectors to a lucrative record deal, failing to mention he's planning to turn their music into an evil anthem to turn listeners into a zombie army. (Hey, I just watch 'em, people.)

Despite its zombie plotline, THE HORRIBLE DR. BONES is a warmed-over showbiz melodrama with a minor supernatural twist, padded out with numerous musical numbers and interminable conversations. (A condensed version of the film appears in the anthology flick URBAN EVIL, though even streamlined it's boring and dry.) The actors are decent--and Sarah Scott makes a pleasing hip-hop singer--but the story is nonsensical, the horror too soft-pedaled and silly to be effective.

Still, as horrible as Dr. Bones is, it's better than I WANT TO WORK FOR DIDDY.

DAY 281--THE BURNING DEAD

2008-08-11T14:28:00.002-04:00

I've been trying to figure out a way to preface THE BURNING DEAD, a 2004 DIY feature from director George A. Demick, and can't quite come up with a way that I haven't done in previous posts. It's not a completely bad film, especially by the standards of most micro-budget movies, though there's nothing to really distinguish it, either. Oh well, let's take a look.

The movie stars D. Vincent Ashby as a troubled young man returning to his childhood home, hoping to recover from a deep-seated trauma stemming from a catastrophic fire that killed several people. Ashby keeps seeing the smoldering victims during the night--is he losing his mind, or is there a more nefarious explanation?

Ashby seems like a nice enough fellow--he comes across as a shaggy Nicolas Cage--but he's somewhat lacking as an actor, with a tendency to painfully overact, though the overwrought dialogue he's given doesn't help. Demick has the ingredients for a tight little horror tale--he doles out information carefully, keeping things ambiguous enough to hold our interest--but for everything that he accomplishes in his favor, he sabotages it with amateurish mistakes; his worst habit is a tendency for long stretches of exposition, relayed in static shots that often repeat information we've already been given (Ashby likes to mumble during these scenes as well). Demick's got the kernel of a good story, but too often it consists of one-note dream sequences that do little to propel the story forward, adding too many pointless moments of Ashby idly driving around, and throws in a couple of last-minute twists that, while not entirely out of left field, don't really count as satisfying storytelling choices (well, there is a late reveal of Ashby's paranormal ability that feels like a cheat). And the outcome is gratingly predictable and pat, with a "feel-good" ending.

But Demick shows he can establish a dream-like mood on a bare-bones budget, and the scenes in which the dead visit Ashby are well-put together. He's got a decent enough eye, and if he can trim the extraneous material from future scripts he might be an indie filmmaker to watch.

Close, but no cigar.

DAY 280--VERSUS

2008-08-10T19:07:00.000-04:00

Mindless Action Movies aren't made to be appreciated by critics. They're solely designed to delight fans looking for thrills, cheap or otherwise, and succeed on the strength of their fight scenes and explosions. I'm cool with that, for the record. I only mention it because I feel somewhat stupid complaining about the lack of substance in Ryuhei Kitamura's 2000 cult favorite VERSUS; it's so concerned with being a Mindless Action Movie that it never realizes how shallow and thin it is (and we're going by Mindless Action Movie standards).

Springing from the Super-8 short DOWN TO HELL, VERSUS sets up a fascinating premise: there are 666 portals connecting our world to the great beyond. In a Japanese forest a group of criminals have gathered where the 444th portal--the Forest of Resurrection--is located. It's a concept that promises a lot of fast-paced fun, but soon after the living dead show up, the story's dropped for an abundance of self-indulgent directorial preening.

Kitamura is a very style-conscious director, so much that coolness and badassery are paramount, dictating the course of the picture. The trouble is that his style is that of other squib-happy filmmakers like John Woo and Quentin Tarantino, and spends two friggin' hours aping their movies. Tough-guy posturing is one thing--hell, it can be what separates a great action flick from the mediocre--but copying someone else's tough-guy posturing is irritating as fuck. Take the iconic everyone-pulls-their-gun-on-each-other moment that occurs in Woo's best work; Kitamura pulls out this chestnut every chance he gets, regardless that it was stale long before the first instance.

To call this a gun fetish movie would be an understatement--this is for guys who like to masturbate to SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. Once again, wall-to-wall gunfire makes for can't-miss entertainment, but if you're relying only on surface qualities you've got to bring something new to the table.

Oh, and did I mention it's got an open ending, so Kitamura can continue this chicanery without the burden of logic or reason?

DAY 279--WORKING LATE

2008-08-10T17:14:00.002-04:00

Short films, I've come to discover, are a dicey prospect. Not counting amateur or student productions (which seem to rarely be worth watching by anyone outside the movie itself), it's hard to find a short that works the same as a well-crafted short story. Most shorts are adequately made on a technical level, but severely lack in solid storytelling. Director Duncan Bowles's 2006 film WORKING LATE is a good example of this trend.

Two low-rung corporate types are stuck overnight in their office to prepare for an important presentation. As if they weren't under enough pressure, yet another zombie outbreak has turned the city into a madhouse, and these guys will be lucky to get out with their lives, let alone their jobs.

While it's competently filmed, WORKING LATE is woefully thin in the plot department; there certainly isn't twenty-eight minutes' worth of story to be found as one of the workers is bitten and disappears into the building as the other searches for/hides from him. There's plenty of opportunity for "corporate drones as the walking dead" metaphor, yet Bowles keeps this strictly an office-bound NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD; even with such an unimaginative throughline WORKING LATE drags as slowly as the undead it features. Maybe if the surviving worker didn't cower in the break room and listen to the radio every three minutes the story might not've been boring and suspense-free.

Bowles assembles an impressive zombie army for the ending, but fades to black before giving them anything to do. It's frustrating, because even with a bare-bones scenario like this one Bowles could've made something really fun instead of executing a perfect anti-climax.

DAY 278--DON'T GO NEAR THE PARK

2008-08-09T18:18:00.003-04:00

Don't go near this movie.

DAY 277--LIVING A ZOMBIE DREAM

2008-08-09T18:14:00.000-04:00

LIVING A ZOMBIE DREAM begins with a production company logo: Borderline Entertainment, which is probably the most accurate moniker I've ever seen. This 1996 shot-on-video feature from director Todd Reynolds tries to be something more than a run-of-the-mill living dead flick, even daring to be artsy, but faces too many hurdles--be it budgetary, technical, or creative--that it just can't overcome.

Encapsulating the plot will be no easy task, since throughout most of the movie I had no idea exactly what was going on, but I'll give it a shot: a young man--played by Amon Elsey, who looks suspiciously like he'd be Arch Hall Jr.'s secret love child--catches his girlfriend and his brother mid-coitus (though, as ridiculous as this sex scene is, I'd be more embarrassed for them than angry). As retribution, Elsey takes his brother for a ride and leaves him stranded in the middle of the night in a well-lit, properly maintained suburban neighborhood (that'll teach the bastard, I guess), only to accidentally leave him for a local serial killer, a killer who likes to dress in a loincloth--no reason, must be a comfort thing--and make snuff movies in his basement. Elsey kills this Tarzan-wannabe psycho, only to find that he won't stay dead, returning again and again in what is either grossly unmotivated revenge or an increasingly potent hallucination.

And while the above synopsis sounds like an interesting enough movie, I'm afraid it really isn't, since the film's as lively as a kid on the first day of school. It's bad enough that the story lags, but Reynolds needlessly jumbles the chronology of events, making it confusing as well. We're then treated to a parade of strange, David Lynch-flavored sequences that may or may not be in Elsey's head (we're made to question what's real and what isn't, but never in a tantalizing or absorbing way); though I appreciate that Reynolds is trying to do something different, even if I can't understand it, without any knowledge of who these characters are or what they're after, these scenes end up merely as bizarre window-dressing (even at his most obtuse, Lynch never abandons the viewer in the imagery). And that's a shame, because this might've been an engrossing film if it'd had the right energy, but DREAM lies on the screen, lifeless, with no impetus or conflict to propel it.

Despite a few surreal flourishes here and there, LIVING A ZOMBIE DREAM suffers on a technical level too, hampered by muddy, grainy videography and poor audio (yet, as we've seen from previous reviews, crappy sound can be your friend with such inferior acting on display).

Reynolds has his heart in the right place, but his movie feels like those terrible softcore skin flicks that popped up during the mid-'90s, the ones that interspersed repetitive flashes of random objects with lingering images of nude women (who got off on those damn things is beyond me, since I've seen more erotic fare on The Learning Channel). LIVING A ZOMBIE DREAM is a painful lesson in style vs. substance.

DAY 276--GRAVEYARD ALIVE

2008-08-09T11:12:00.002-04:00

A pleasant surprise, this one, thanks in part to different expectations. Director Elza Kephart's 2003 film sounds a lot like several of the raunchy zombie sex-comedies that've popped up on this blog: a frumpy nurse becomes bitten by a zombie and turns into a sultry sexpot as well as the living dead, enabling her to fulfill the fantasies she was too afraid to pursue in life. But this quirky Canadian production is much more than that; influenced by such disparate sources as vintage science fiction, arthouse films, and silent cinema, GRAVEYARD ALIVE is a refreshingly subversive indie, even with its flaws.

Broken into nine chapters, complete with their own headings (usually the herald of an unbearably pretentious filmmaker--but not the case here), ALIVE chronicles the romantic misadventures of dowdy Nurse Patsy (Anne Day-Jones), who pines for the dreamy Dr. Dox (Karl Gerhardt); but, alas, the handsome doctor is already engaged to Head-Nurse-to-be Goodie (as in Two-Shoes, played by Samantha Slan). Kephart seems to realize her silly, pun-based humor doesn't exactly work early on, so she abandons it for a more-or-less straight-faced parody of old soap operas. At least until a bite from an infected patient turns her into a flesh-hungry sex kitten out to take what she wants.

The film plays well, demonstrating that the soaps of yore weren't all that different from sci-fi pics of the same era; the performances capture the wooden earnestness, and the story has the same steady build-up of a creaky monster programmer. The zombie angle is introduced fairly early, with a Van Helsing stand-in who establishes the rules with a unique twist: "The only known method of eliminating a zombie is to drive a knife of 100% sterling silver through the third eye of the centre [sic] of the skull." Different, sure, but also remarkably similar to vampire lore, no? At times like this, or when Day-Jones must prey on the living to keep from decomposing, that Kephart feels like she can't decide what kind of monster she wants, though her indecisiveness never detracts from the plot.

GRAVEYARD ALIVE excels aesthetically at the expense of its narrative, but is the trade-off ever worth it. The concept of zombie-transformation-as-empowerment is nothing new, but Kephart's approach certainly is, eschewing the typical fuck-and-eat scenario for a much more subtle and nuanced route. Sure, there is a sampling of gore (which meshes unexpectedly well in the film's retro look), but Kephart throws in some eerie dream sequences and an increasingly surreal atmosphere that recalls CARNIVAL OF SOULS and the early work of David Lynch. The movie moves much slower than its 81-minute running time suggests (and there are times when the story practically crawls on its belly), but the engaging look and involving plot carries it along.

It's not a perfect film, but still one I recommend searching out. Kephart deserves credit for doing something different with the zombie genre, as well as a lot more attention (I imagine I'm not the only one who overlooked this film). For additional fun, invite some film theorists over and really mess with them.

DAY 275--DOCUMENT OF THE DEAD

2008-08-08T14:03:00.002-04:00

One of the goals of 365 Days is to look at how the living dead are treated in various genres; we've got plenty of horror films, obviously, as well as a plethora of comedies and a surprising number of love stories. What I was really hoping to find were some zombie documentaries--ostensibly real ones, not mock-docs like AMERICAN ZOMBIES--but aside from a few specials on The History Channel I was coming up empty. The closest I could find that fit my admittedly loose criteria was Roy Frumkes's 1989 making-of documentary DOCUMENT OF THE DEAD. (And if anyone out there knows of any "real" zombie docs--especially in the vein of those searching-for-Bigfoot films from the '70s--please let me know.)

DOCUMENT is both a behind-the-scenes look at George Romero's DAWN OF THE DEAD as well as an informal study of the director's style and technique. Unlike similar projects which serve as glorified electronic press kits, this is a true making-of film; Frumkes follows Romero around DAWN's Monroeville Mall location, gleaning bits of production trivia (for example: shooting was suspending during the Christmas season so time wasn't wasted removing and replacing the mall's holiday decorations) and Romero's thoughts on the filmmaking process.

In addition to the filming of DAWN, Frumkes studies Romero's directorial methods, using clips from MARTIN and the original NIGHT to analyze his stylistic consistency. We also get a look at Romero in the editing bay before segueing to the TWO EVIL EYES set. It's fascinating stuff, and aspiring film students should check it out.

As interesting as all of this is, DOCUMENT often the mirrors the tedium that permeates film shoots--most notably during the EYES segment, where Tom Savini repeatedly tries to get Ramy Zada's death scene to work--and there's little that revelatory (aside from a brief clip deleted from EYES and a FANTASTIC VOYAGE-inspired detergent commercial from Romero's early days). Frumkes also rounds out the film with talking heads Gahan Wilson, Steve Bissette, and the Phantom of the Movies as they discuss NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD's cultural impact, but it acts more as filler and barely grazes the surface.

A look into the mind of zombiedom's most influential director, DOCUMENT OF THE DEAD is recommended to both student filmmakers and die-hard Romero fans. Casual fans, though, might get a little antsy.

DAY 274--EVIL CLUTCH

2008-08-07T17:43:00.002-04:00

An ultra-cheap Italian rip-off of THE EVIL DEAD, 1988's EVIL CLUTCH is one of those movies that doesn't have quite enough going for it to be a truly recommendable film, mostly because what it does have to offer is remarkably similar to more memorable films. Director Andreas Marfori clearly believes that style compensates for a dearth of substance--and to an extent it's true, but not when it copies an internationally renowned cult classic.

EVIL CLUTCH stars Coralina Tassoni (of DEMONS 2) and Diego Ribon as a couple vacationing in a quaint European village who encounter a demon in the guise of a beautiful seductress. (We know she's a demon because we've seen a claw emerge from her groin to grab a guy's manhood--this should've been called EVIL CROTCH.) Will Tassoni be able to keep her boyfriend safe from the demon's malevolent designs?

The movie has a low-rent but palpable atmosphere of impending dread, complemented by a moody score, yet it's so frustratingly slow that the ambiance yields little effect. I suppose when there's a total of five people in a film it's hard to have a decent body count. (Marfori teases early with an imaginary scene in which the hypothetical fates awaiting the couple are illustrated, but this is as close to mayhem as we come until the final reel.) What fills the movie's dead air is an overabundance of the POV camerawork Sam Raimi made famous in THE EVIL DEAD, and while it's put to good use it's also so prominent it deserves top billing. Marfori may be a one-trick pony, but he's going to make damn sure we all love his trick.

EVIL CLUTCH picks up near the end as the demon attempts to claim Ribon, even throwing in a zombie henchman for no other purpose than to have a zombie henchman (and he is pretty cool-looking, even if his presence makes no sense). Marfori goes all out for his climax, and comes very close to reaching the deliriously campy heights of TROLL 2--featuring a demonic tree with octopus-like branches, the seductress's sudden bug-eyed countenance, and a juicy but ridiculous decapitation--but it never goes the whole nine, ending up being rather silly instead.

EVIL CLUTCH has its moments, and aficionados of Italian cheese might want to check it out, but keep the remote handy since the fast-forward button is crucial to enjoy this flick.

DAY 273--TRESPASSERS

2008-08-07T14:57:00.002-04:00

Something that's always bugged me as a horror fan is the insistence of several films to make their characters as unlikable as possible. Don't they realize that without giving us people to root for or care about--and I'm talking about the basic human response to a person in jeopardy--they're simply not going to work? They're exceptions, as always (author Jack Ketchum is a master of presenting flawed, frequently unsympathetic protagonists and putting them into hellish situations that no one deserves), but because most horror movies are simple Us vs. Something Bad scenarios, preventing the audience from identifying with the "good guys" almost always results in a bad film.

(And while we're on the topic, since when did Eli Roth get the blame for this? I've read more than one review recently which lambasted him for starting the "Assholes as Main Characters" trend, but doesn't anyone remember the obnoxious party-goers from the '80s slasher boom? Besides, Roth's unlikable protagonists are usually otherwise well-developed, and their attitudes serve a purpose in the story.)

This is all an extremely long-winded way of explaining why I didn't care for TRESPASSERS, a 2006 digital-video inanity from director Ian McCrudden. It's got it's fair share of problems, but the biggest is a roster of characters so aggressively irritating and vapid that any potential for suspense is blown from Scene One. How are we supposed to feel about someone who describes a tropical paradise as being "like Mexico without the Mexicans" with anything but passive contempt?

The movie's premise involves a vanload of youngsters who head out to the beach on a surfing expedition and run afoul of a centuries-old curse when they take a wrong turn; pretty standard B-horror material, but with this bunch it feels like a particularly noisome reality series. (Note to the director: while gratuitous nudity is always appreciated in overlong set-ups, I could've done without seeing the slacker dickhead pleasuring himself afterward.) When McCrudden finally gets his story underway it suggests something along the lines of THE BEACH HAS EYES, but what we get is a limp, undercooked serving of fast zombies that don't do enough to make the sluggish pacing worthwhile. (So little happens on screen that TRESPASSERS is a lot like a Snickers bar, filling you with empty calories while providing no true sustenance.)

The film often employs hand-held video, a technique that might add a layer of realism to polished Hollywood fare like THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM, but makes a low-budget outing like this look even cheaper. Worse is that McCrudden chooses to film and edit the piddling action in such a way that it's all but obscured. I'm sure financial constraints played a part, but if you're going to create the illusion of something you couldn't afford you at least need to provide the raw materials so we can meet you halfway.

TRESPASSERS offers nothing of substance; there's a hundred other wrong-turn movies that provide the thrills this movie lacks. Though there's a smattering of gore, it's not even worthwhile on a splatter level. Avoid this one.

DAY 272--WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S II

2008-08-05T20:25:00.000-04:00

I could make a cheap joke about WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S II being the scariest movie I've reviewed on this blog, but that would be inappropriate since humor and this 1993 misfire are mutually exclusive. In his book I HATED, HATED, HATED THIS MOVIE (one of my favorite collections of film criticism), Roger Ebert illustrates what a creative wasteland celluloid comedy was in the early nineties with such lacerating reviews of CLIFFORD, MILK MONEY, and NORTH, but nowhere does he mention director Robert Klane's frighteningly unfunny follow-up to the apparently successful 1987 original; perhaps because it doesn't take a master critic like Mr. Ebert to explain why this movie flat-out sucks.

I guess Klane (who also wrote the first film) had plenty of unanswered questions burning from the previous WEEKEND and thus felt compelled to make this one. In a premise convoluted enough to befuddle Christopher Nolan, returning stars Andrew McCarthy and Johnathan Silverman (has there been a more chemistry-barren comedic duo? Robert Blake and Scott Wilson got more laughs with IN COLD BLOOD) find themselves unemployed and under investigation due to the events of the first film and head back to St. Thomas to clear their names. Trying to beat them to the $2 million still up for grabs are a pair of anonymous bad guys--who're given so little screen time I have no clue who they are, but they dress like villains from MIAMI VICE so we know they're up to no good--recruit a voodoo priestess to resurrect Bernie's no-worse-for-wear corpse to lead them to the missing cash. The priestess, for no discernable reason, enlists a pair of lackeys to perform the ceremony; they of course screw it up, and Bernie can only move toward the money when music is playing. (The two voodoo henchman are played by the late actor/stuntman Steve James and Tom Wright--who knows a thing or two about zombies, having played one in CREEPSHOW 2's hitchhiker segment--and are portrayed in the broadest possible sketches, coming one chitlin joke away from being offensive Stepin Fetchit stereotypes.) And let us not forget Barry Bostwick, who tails McCarthy and Silverman to prove their complicity.

With a plot like that the laughs should be come every thirteen seconds, right? Right?

At any point during the course of making this movie did anyone find anything about this story funny? The appeal, such as it was, of WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S was the various slapstick abuses visited upon Bernie's corpse; there's some of that here, but for the most part we're expected to sit back and howl as Bernie hip-thrusts along to calypso music on his way to the stolen loot. The story is built upon a foundation of unfunny and belabored set-pieces that have all the comedic impact of white noise. In a typical example of the movie's approach, Bostwick is either an efficient investigator or a bumbling oaf, whichever the current situation needs, often resorting to the last desperate grasp of the terminally uninspired--the simple pratfall. Silverman and McCarthy are as charisma-free as ever, especially the latter who evokes a bygone era when protagonists could say "Look at the tits on that one" and still be expected to be likable. I laughed exactly once during WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S II, at an asinine JAWS parody during the movie's finale, and even then it wasn't the humor but the filmmakers' audacity to include such an utterly stupid gag.

I'd tell you this movie's a waste of time, but that would insult your intelligence. Remarkable only in its chutzpah (though it at least served as a plot point in a really great SEINFELD episode), WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S II will have your brains dribbling out your ears by the midpoint.

A taste of stupidity:

And the trailer, which condensed all the stupidity into a two-minute clip:

DAY 271--ZOMBIE STRIPPERS

2008-08-04T21:07:00.001-04:00

No one goes into a movie called ZOMBIE STRIPPERS expecting cinematic gold; of course, everyone has different definitions of a great movie, but I doubt even the most indiscriminate film buff would have THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI in mind. Plenty of female nudity, a sprinkling of gore, a few chuckles--you know exactly what you're getting, right? Yet even by these lowly standards director Jay Lee's 2008 alleged horror-comedy fails miserably. Now, I don't know if Lee assumed his title would simply write itself, or he just didn't have the money to do much with his premise; the film offers considerable evidence for each possibility.

After a brief prologue in which we learn about the near future of 2012 (and receive the few genuine laughs of the movie), we're treated to yet another top-secret project to create an invincible super-soldier (I keep telling you guys, these plots never work but does anyone listen?). Of course the situation goes bad, and it's up to a group of thinly-developed non-zombie soldiers to maintain control. In this opening Lee establishes what we'll have to sit through for the next ninety minutes: unimaginative humor, lackluster action that relies much too heavily on crude CGI, and an overall sense of apathy from everyone involved. (I also don't understand why we needed a detailed explanation of how the zombie virus works, since the rules are absolutely no different than a hundred others. Wouldn't the filmmakers realize anyone interested in something called ZOMBIE STRIPPERS already know this stuff?)

Anyway, one of the soldiers gets bitten and hides out in a skeevy strip joint run by Robert Englund (who apparently had a balloon mortgage on his house, or someone has pictures of him involving a goat and a bottle of Wesson oil) and features Jenna Jameson as the star attraction. It isn't long--though it sure feels like it--when Jenna ends up bitten herself, and spreads the virus among the other dancers. Soon the place is filled with whooping young guys eager to watch the blood-spattered zombie girls strut their stuff. (And comedy or not, here's where I gotta call bullshit. I've been to quite a few disreputable strip clubs and even at their drunkest these guys have zero interest in a Goth stripper, let alone one covered in blood.)

ZOMBIE STRIPPERS completely wastes its potential, shying away from anything amusingly twisted and instead shoveling out the same type of humor (the Russian madam prone to malaprops, the Nebraska farm girl fresh off the bus) that was old when vaudeville was alive; the film gamely tries to play with a few gross-out gags near the end, but I was already benumbed by the climactic battle between the humans and the zombies rife with godawful digital effects and lame LOONEY TUNES-style action that was so unfathomably stupid it's almost insulting. (But those of you who've always wanted to see Jenna Jameson shoot billiard balls from her vag--and we all knew it was just a matter of time, right?--might not be disappointed.) The story is inexcusably sluggish, so boring it actually makes a succession of nude women tedious, and mainly consists of a zombie stripper doing her thing, taking a guy backstage for a "lap dance," then eating him in a ridiculously over-the-top fashion. Lee toys with exploring the notion of jealousy and cattiness among dancers, but only as far as the next tit-shot or splash of gore, preferring to keep things as superficial as possible.

Slightly titillating at best, ZOMBIE STRIPPERS is of interest only to those who've never seen Jenna Jameson naked before (i.e., anyone under twelve). And amazingly enough, she's the best actor in the cast, though she's turned in stronger performances in her hardcore career. Englund, on the other hand, plays his character as a femme-phobic priss to such an annoying degree that I wonder if he was trying to get all of his scenes cut (an understandable notion). It's less fun than watching SHOWGIRLS on TBS.

DAY 270--ZOMBIFIED

2008-08-03T15:04:00.000-04:00

So, is zombie-filmmaking the modern equivalent of collecting baseball cards? It seems the past time of choice among today's youth is using Dad's camcorder to shoot a living dead opus in the backyard or rec room, though I suppose it's more constructive a hobby than message board flamewars about which cast member of THE HILLS is TEH HAWTEST!!!! All of this is to say that here's another amateur short film: ZOMBIFIED, directed by Adam Colas in 2007.

It's a classic trapped-in-a-box scenario, enacted by three pajama-clad teenage girls as they barricade themselves in their garage against a zombie outbreak. Since most of these "productions" are more about relieving the filmmakers' boredom than innovative storytelling, I'll give Colas a pass for keeping it strictly NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD LITE (though the short's beginning, in which the story is established through snatches of dialogue over a blank screen, suggested a more ingenious method to follow).

Everyone involved no doubt had a lot of fun, but I've got to say I didn't. While I gladly support youthful creativity, overwrought dialogue still jabs my eardrums like an icepick and the characters, such as they were, were a little to grating to root for. And if you're going to stage a "let's run through a swarm of zombies to escape" sequence, you've got to have the appropriate energy; lackluster zombie-killing is just no fun. Recruit that kid in your geometry class you secretly hate and wail the crap out of him!

DAY 269--AMERICAN ZOMBIE

2008-08-03T13:31:00.002-04:00

Many critics have been eager to call the 2007 mockumentary AMERICAN ZOMBIE "the movie DIARY OF THE DEAD should've been," but I'll have to disagree. Not because DIARY is a better film--personally, I think ZOMBIE tops not only Romero's recent film, but similar mock-docs like THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT and CLOVERFIELD--but because it's a case of apples and oranges; their formats may be the same, but these are two entirely different films.

Maybe it's all in the layers. DIARY operated best on the surface as a slick, thrill-oriented example of genre entertainment, but with AMERICAN ZOMBIE director Grace Lee finds the human side of the undead. The result is a deeper, multi-faceted film that deals its hand slowly, never quite revealing its true nature until it's got you in its grip.

The movie stars Lee and cinematographer John Solomon, playing fictitious versions of themselves, as they compile footage for a documentary on the living dead in America. In this alternate reality zombies are a significant yet reviled and misunderstood segment of the population, and the documentary's goal is to not only put a face on the dead, but to change the public's perspective and make them more acceptable.

The filmmakers follow four different zombies: Ivan, a likable slacker doofus who works at a convenience store; Judy, a perpetually perky customer service rep for an organic foods company; Joel, the militant organizer of a zombie-rights group; and Lisa, a New Age artist. We get to hear how they became zombies, what their day-to-day existences are like, what they hope the future holds, even their tentative romances with the living (Ivan's even got a zombie-groupie girlfriend).

Even at this primary level AMERICAN ZOMBIE works extremely well. The actors skillfully blend fiction and reality, the filmmakers are far less annoying than those BLAIR WITCH fucks, and unlike DIARY or CLOVERFIELD (which never transcended their faux-reality trappings), it feels like a genuine documentary. Lee manages to fit in a subtle commentary on the film-making process (like when Lee and Solomon debate using narrative techniques for a documentary or how far reality can be manipulated) and the nature of collaboration as well. But the movie takes us a step further, slowly working in certain details--such as the recurring motif of voids, and the presence of vials of blue liquid in the zombies' refrigerators--that foreshadow ZOMBIE's shift into darker territory.

The dry, black humor that runs throughout the film gradually takes a backseat as Lee and Solomon try to gain access to Live Dead, a zombie-only festival that takes place every year (and generates all sorts of ghastly rumors about what really goes on). A considerable portion of the film takes place there as the filmmakers are (reluctantly) allowed in, and it's here that Lee's strength as a storyteller kicks in. A steadily mounting sense of unease permeates the proceedings as Lee and Solomon interview increasingly wary participants; previous details are brought to the fore, and as the film crew begins to learn just what goes on the suspense is expertly ratcheted. (Lee stumbles a bit as she tries a little too hard to recreate a BLAIR WITCH-style atmosphere, but this minor misstep does not impact the build-up of this segment.) The Live Dead climax, in which the festival's secrets are finally revealed, is a beautifully understated moment of horror, a scene which epitomizes the concept that what you don't see is far more terrifying than what you do. An excellent, chilling tableaux.

The down side is that it tends to make the film's resolution a little anticlimactic as each characters' storyline is wrapped up. But Lee finishes well, if not perfectly. We see the doc's subjects going on with their lives, all of them affected by Live Dead, especially Judy, whose upbeat demeanor has been changed by what she's seen, both at the festival and in her life. Her transformation is the most disturbing note of the movie's finale, unfortunately overshadowed by the more dramatic, "tragic" depiction of Solomon's last-minute zombie bite; yet thanks to the multiple layers Lee has placed AMERICAN ZOMBIE ends on a quietly shattering note.

Simply put, AMERICAN ZOMBIE is the best living dead film of the decade. Miss it at your peril.

DAY 268--RESIDENT EVIL: EXTINCTION

2008-08-02T14:04:00.000-04:00

I've made no secret of my overwhelming contempt for the RESIDENT EVIL films. Glossy, soulless eye candy, they are, and I utterly despise them. So news of a third installment didn't quite send me dancing with joy in the street, but I was at least heartened to learn that Russell Mulcahy would be directing EXTINCTION. (Never mind that I really haven't enjoyed much of his work since his debut RAZORBACK--and RICOCHET, of course, if only for the novelty of a John Lithgow/Jesse Ventura grudge match--but hell, Todd Sheets could've replaced uber-hack Paul W.S. Anderson and I would've been happy.) But when you're following the celluloid exploits of a video game franchise the prospect of good filmmaking is a fool's pursuit indeed.

EX-STINK-TION stays true to the series by prioritizing video-game aesthetics over good, or basic, storytelling. It picks up after the events of APOCALYPSE, wherein the T-virus has killed most of the world's population (you know a virus is badass when it can not only scrub mankind from the face of the planet, but turn the earth into a desert wasteland as well), and buys into the notion that any post-apocalyptic setting must be inhabited by MAD MAX-inspired misfits. Milla Jovovich returns in full "pleasing to the eye, grating to the brain" mode, hooking up with a few of the previous film's survivors in a cross-country convoy (led by Ali Larter, who doesn't exactly make for a convincing leader of such a rough-and-tumble team, though I doubt the intended fan base won't mind) while also trying to defeat the Umbrella Corp.

If you've ever played any of the RESIDENT EVIL games or seen a zombie movie, a more detailed description would simply be redundant. EXTINCTION is just as plodding as its predecessors, spending way too much time in shadowy boardrooms with evil corporate types who're trying to domesticize the zombies (they even have their own Bub surrogate), but Mulcahy tries to keep the story moving as best he can. His action scenes are frenetic but shallow, stimulating only as a flashing succession of images than engaging set-pieces. The much-discussed zombie-crow sequence might've worked better if it was more than a blur of poor CGI, though the living dead themselves often look impressive (even if they're given little to do).

With storytelling so simplistic it could work just as well as a silent film it's no wonder that the next sequel--the aptly-titled DEGENERATION--will be completely animated. A few striking visuals aside, there's nothing here that wouldn't be out of place in those straight-to-disc stinkbombs Lionsgate likes to pick up--and that includes the lame, digitally-enhanced finale that wouldn't impress a sugar-addled twelve-year-old.